


Five Times watching Jack having sex was kinda okay somehow and One Time Jack was glad nobody could

by MiaSchwarz



Category: Cabin Pressure AU - Fandom, Check Please! (Webcomic), Check Please! (Webcomic) AU, Minor Cabin Pressure
Genre: 5+1 Things, Accidental violation of Privacy, All is well and nobody gets hurt, Caught in the Act, Dark Jack Zimmermann, Friendly violation of Privacy, Ghost Hunting for the sake of plot, Jack Zimmermann Insight, Jack Zimmermann Secrets, Kent Parson Insight, M/M, Multi, Other, Sex Tapes, The longer it goes the more detailed it gets, voyerism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:54:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8732065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaSchwarz/pseuds/MiaSchwarz
Summary: Jack takes the strikes of his infamous luck with determination. He silently waits through the shame and the teasing. And though he finally learns to hide his privacy properly, he can't control the circumstances. So he felt pretty lucky when his bad luck failed one time and there wasn't even any video-evidence left to be found.





	1. H.A.P.S.

**Author's Note:**

> Does the title just tell the whole plot? Maybe it does. This is a collection of stories centered around Jack Zimmermann and different scenarios of (sometime accidentally) watching him during intercourse via electronic devices. The time-line isn't strict, there is an increasing amount of details and Chapter 6 blows it all. 
> 
> I hope I got the tags and the notifications in the right order now so that it gets less confusing. 
> 
> BEWARE!
> 
> Adult content and NSFW the more this collection gets longer. Nobody gets hurt though and it should be kind of funny and a bit strange at worst. 
> 
> If you are into lots of words and insights and light reading, stick to the first Five Times to be safe.
> 
> If you are into some kind of secretive Jack getting to try out some (sexual) kinks you should keep going to the One Time. And let me know how you liked that one, I plan to start a multi-chapter-story based on (dark?)Jack in a sensual content. You get a reminder at the end, ta ;)
> 
> If you are a though soul just ignore the warnings and give a call as usual, cya :D

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ransom and Holster start the operation H.A.P.S. to finally prove there is paranormal activity in the HAUS. They fail though, but at least there is some promising "evidence" of their Canadian captain caught on tape, they really have to ckeck before calling their first operation off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More half-hearted paranormal stuff than neccessary in the sake of plot. Please note, the details and facts are more for plot-reasons than for recalling a scientificly correct explanation of techniques. If you want, I have some other parts in the line to continue this plot. Give me a call :)

This time Ransom was taking no shit anymore. And he had his best bro at his side. After hours of intensive YouTube-watching on the subject (with the never ending inspiring ideas of Shitty), some serious technical advantages (with the kind but skeptical help of Dex) and several investments into special equipment (with the friendly help of the beer-jar and a certain credit card it contained) both Ransom and Holster where more than ready to start mission H.A.P.S.: the Haus Associative Paranormal Studies!

Ransom was sick of the treatment he was sure where not sourced by the two nerdy but harmless ghost-girls, but some other kind of nasty appearance. And together with his best buddy he was at first going to prove his suspicions. For second he and Holster where going to investigate and solve the 'problem' once and for all. And also point three: there now where cameras all around the house. Every room contained at least one high definition camera with infra-red-sensor, infrared-night vision and a multi-spectrum audio-system. Every door was watched to record any movement. The floors and stairways where also equipped with laser-traps and cameras heading both up and down the way. Several random objects also appeared at lightly displayed spots. They where solid and simple in shape, light colored and heavy enough to not drop at any movement, but would be easy to observe in case they behaved strangely anyway.

Every potentially interesting place was covered with camera-observation-devices. Doors, windows, floors, stairways, random objects, the kitchen, the library and also the bathrooms. It was a hard quest for the two defense-men to install every necessary advice secretly hidden in both bathrooms. Getting into Jack's and Shitty's bathroom was especially tricky. While Ransom and Holster where sure that Shitty would play along, they where also sure that Jack most definitely would not. And when they found themselves in the misery that they couldn't tell Shitty, because he would tell Jack immediately, they decided to be extra sensitive when evaluating the tapes, making sure nobody else watched them first. And be extra sneaky to avoid any suspicions. All in the name of science, of course.

After weeks of plotting, preparation and adjusting everything the final moment began. Both bros where hunched in-front of their two connected computer-screens. They knocked their fists together and started the observation-system for the first time. They switched through the different camera-channels, made notes for future improvements, checked and adjusted the recording levels and congratulated themselves on their semi-professional work. Now the real observation could begin.

Soon both where glad that they only agreed to be super-sensitive in matters of Jack and Shitty, because shortly after the start there was a shit-load of recorded video- and audio-tape piling up to be evaluated. Luckily enough there was a new delivery of frogs only too happy to offer their services to aim for dips. But even they started to complain one after another about the not ending amount of boring tape. The two bros had to admit, there was at least 99 percent of useless shit on tape. Although they had been aware something like this was about to happen, they where not prepared for the sheer amount of it.

The sensors went off by the lightest movements, changes of temperature, toilets flushing, birds flying along outside the windows, cars passing along the Haus ... Probably the settings where to sensitive, so they regulated them down. The total amount of recording went down to reasonable size, everyone involved heaved a sigh of relief.  
But eventually Jack made up for the lack of thrash to look over and started to cover or tip down every device he got hold of. The recordings where a visual and audible imposition of terrible buzzing and useless camera-angles. They had to rearrange everything every time, which contained a lot of running around the Haus digging around in less clean – and one time even dry - parts of the building and certainly didn't make the frogs too happy.  
One night the sensors went viral through one of Shitty's dub-and-dope-sessions. There where 'mysterious mists' and 'ghostly odors' involved, as Shitty helpfully explained in accurate detail to the cameras, shortly before blowing smoke wetly at the cameras and farting into the microphones. The frogs got somewhat irritated.  
After two weeks - Ransom and Holster had to give them credit for that - they refused to evaluate videos of the kitchen and the stairways anymore. They all liked Bitty, a lot actually. But watching random blinks of him literally jumping around between the kitchen and his room, singing and whistling and shaking his butt in-front of the cameras for hours on end while baking and cooking for even longer ... it was getting a bit much.  
So when Lardo and a friend of her set a bunch of ferrets in tiny spider-costumes loose one night in the Haus the frogs nearly started mutiny. The situation began to escalate seriously, so Ransom and Holster threw a Mini-Kegster to gather the team together.

It took a lot of promised cooking and baking from Bitty for the frogs sponsored by Ransom and Holster, a serious promise from Jack not to temper with the equipment again, a questionable promise from Shitty to wear more clothes in general, a ban on rodents (and spiders!) and a detailed plan to make the job less annoying in the future to convince the frogs to ever help again. And to make everybody at least somehow partake in the observations. But not until after the next weekend. There was some explaining and persuasion needed to get the whole team on the mission H.A.P.S., or at least stop them sabotaging the investigation. This was serious for both Ransom and Holster and they did their best to get the whole team to agree to a mutual compromise. So afterwards, during cleaning the back-yard, they both felt like they just saved their team from a hard beating game and sighed in unison with relief when everything in the Haus settled down to kinda normal again.

Part2

After the initial malfunctions and the always-soothing spirits of a nice Kegster everybody in the Haus went more or less along with mission H.A.P.S. At least there was no more manipulating the evidence. If there would have been evidence anyway. Despite the enormous amounts of recordings something interesting was still due to happen. But Ransom and Holster didn't give up, even if it meant they had to review most of the material on their own. It wasn't as much work like it was in the first few weeks though, because they gradually downsized the supervision-technique. After a month it became clear, that not all cameras and laser-traps where needed, so the equipment left nearly all facilities in the basement. There was only one camera left in the kitchen, aiming at the fridge and the door. Another camera was watching the green couch and the door to the hall as well. Just one camera remained for each stairway, one pointing upwards while the other one pointed down the stairs. This way they could observe the greatest area each and daylight was used as best as possible. Ransom and Holster deemed that enough, after the first observations there was just to much “human traffic” in the living-areas of the Haus to catch anything unusual. Furthermore they deduced, that these frequently used parts of the building might also not be the most preferred places for ghosts or other inhuman entities to appear. So the good bros tried and adjusted until finally everything was running smoothly and without any destruction.

So it was to say the operation HAPS went commendable, all devices where running perfectly, the recordings where flawless and the inhabitants of the Haus seemed more or less at ease with the investigation at last. Ransom and Holster prided themselves for their good logistic skills, because there was eventually a fine tuned routine between studying, hockey and the investigation. They kept updates and held consultations with other investigators through internet-platforms. All was well. But even after weeks of detailed work there was still no recording of any paranormal activity. At all. Not a single strange EVP, no extraordinary video recording, no damaged traps, just nothing. It was frustrating in a way, even Ransom had not expected. As a scientist, he always doubted even his own experiences, so he won Holster over to invest money, time and brain melting, but he was proud of their meticulous work. But getting no response altogether was strangely disappointing, despise not expecting anything really in the first place. Or so they thought. At some point they talked about the possibility, that there would nothing be found anytime soon in the house, especially not so much about what to do else, but about the personal opinion about that 'fact'. Holster took the matter in a sportive way, resulting the effort and their gained skills as great success of the TEAM-HAPS and Ransom could only agree to his best bro on these points. They had become quiet known around the 'investigators' they had contact with over the internet. Both where known and respected as at least semi-professional in their work and had gained a solid base of interested followers and even new friends-from-the-internet. And Ransom also agreed on the scientific evidence they had documented and it would in no way be a disappointment that the logical conclusion said: 'No, no recordable traices of paranormal activity in the Haus, as far as HAPS can say'. But it still felt weird, he was so … sure that they could prove his experiences at least, but there was nothing on the records. At all. Ransom felt defeated in this kind of helpless state, nothing to do about the result, you have to deal with it. And because Holster was his best bro he totally understood his feelings. When Ransom heaved a big sigh and looked at Holster with a strange face, the bigger man took off his glasses and placed a big hand on the smaller man's shoulder.

“Ransi-poo … I know the feeling, bro. And I think, that is just s'awsesome because you tried everything to find out the truth and you feel bad, because you think, it wasn't enough.”  
“Yeah”, Ransom muttered, ”yeah, you are right, man!”  
“Yeah, man, it's s'awsesome, because that's why you will be the best medical doctor ever”, Holster shook Ransom with both hands on his shoulders and a starstruck expression in his eyes.  
“Oh, yeah … yeah, bro! If you say it like that …”,  
“Bull's, Ransi! I mean, okay, you feel bad, and yeah, there will be times like this all the time maybe, but you did your best! And if there would something else you could do, you would totally do it! Bro! I'm not just saying stuff! It's true and it's just s'awsesome.” Holster smirked proudly of himself and started to bro-box Ransom in the chest.  
“Yeah, bro, you are my favorite and most intelligent cheer-bro of all time! Thank's man for being so fricking amazing!”, he started bro-boxing Holster in the stomach.  
“But … sorry, bro, it still feels awful, though. Sorry, bro.”

For a moment, Holster deflated with a sigh. But he instantly lighted up literally, took his glassed back on his nose and looked at his best bro with a challenging smirk.

“In this case, my dearest bro of all bro's, I know just the thing to lighten up the Ransom-and-Holster-private-pity-party. Because this …” he held an small USB-Drive dramatically in front of his face like a bad movie-villain in a full-face-shot-or-some-shit “… this may contain some evidence both of us have not just yet analyzed scientifically enough.” He waggled his eyebrows like an idiot, but Ransom got the clue.

“Yeah, bro, it would be shame not to investigate with special equipment. We need beer, pizza, junk-food and a laptop right here in 30!”, he told Holster with determination. Holster jumped to his feed.

“I've got food and pizza! You've got the beer and the laptop!”

“Check! Don't forget the sauce!”

“Check! Don't forget the fridge!”

Holster burst through the door and jumped through the house with wall shattering racket and a forcefully closed front door, closely followed by an equally noisy Ransom heading for the basement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thahaaa, no sexy times so far, I got you! But it get's better and less obscure, I hope ...


	2. Who is bad?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang is sneaky, there has a door to be replaced, Shitty get's some ears full and Jack moves along, in that order.  
> Special guests: Alicia and Robert "Bad Bob" Zimmermann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't help but notice, some of you had fun with the first story, you are good guys, move on!  
> This takes place some time later, this time at another place of Jack. No ghost-hunting anymore, I'm affraid (and no beta either as per usual). But there is some searching as well happening here. There was some sexy-time promised, but you still have to wait for some serious action, there we go.  
> Have fun, score for faults and let me know, if the first chapter needs a second part.

The end of the NHL-Season was to be celebrated at Jack's town-house this time, much to Bitty's delight and Jack's suspicion. Both where right somehow. Bitty was going to be able to cater everyone one of the guys as much as possible. And Jack wasn't sure if their visit would go over smoothly and without any kind of havoc.

The first people to arrive at the flat in Providence where the co-captains Ransom and Holster. While Bitty and Jack where still wrestling through the airport and the other former team-members where worming Shitty's Van through after-work traffic in the city, the two friends settled themselves into the town-house. After his first year in Providence and the flat his mum had chosen for him, Jack had finally found a „funny small house“, his mother's words, right in the old centre of the town. While the flat had been a modernly stylish affair, Jack never felt very comfortable there. So when he once jogged through this particular neighbourhood and found the three storey house, he was determined to get it. The building was placed nearby a park, a little bit left behind off the street and from the other houses, surrounded by big maple-trees. Jack had to spend some money to update the building, but in the end, it was perfect in his mind.

So actually the house was in top condition after all the modernisations and the two co-captains started roaming around searching for nothing and everything in particular. They where munching through Jack's protein-bars brainstorming where there could be something interesting hidden in the building, when Shitty arrived. Shitty was – already? Still? - dressed in his She-Ra-Pants, a crop-shirt and sunglasses. He dismissed the calls of admiration for his chill style in early December Providence with a nonchalant wave of his hand. Shitty looked around the hallway like he just conquered a new planet, placed his sunglasses carefully into a breast-pocket of his top. When he started to rub his hands with a determined evil expression on his face the new search got to semi-serious proportions. After everything interesting was found, approved off and roped into the sitting-room, they looked for „other stuff“, like laptops, tapes, pictures or something, causing a careful mess without new reasons for renovation, of course.

With a shout from the front-door Lardo arrived and had all the frogs in tow. Each one of them had a profound task and while they brought loads of stuff for all kinds of occasions during the weekend into the house, Lardo found Ransom, Holster and Shitty in the major bedroom under the rooftop. All three where lounging on the huge bed and staring out of the window in the roof itself into the sky. They had found a safe in the wall behind a mirror, but where unable to get into it. Lardo kicked the bed to get the guys out of it. After some fumbling with the security item in the wall Lardo was half vanished into the safe and rummaged through it. Eventually there was to find an ancient laptop, that had been Bitty's once. Like yielding a precious object Lardo brought the device into the sitting-room, where a nice seat was already set up with a drink to lounge and search the computer for „stuff“. There was a lot of boring junk on the laptop, like important documents, certificates, bills, music, documentaries, family pictures and so on. Just very boring. But there had to be something interesting there, or it would make no sense to place it into the safe. Even Jack wasn't that kind of paranoid, everyone agreed. Everyone was roaming around the little house with different intentions when another shout was heard, because Lardo had finally found something on the laptop.

The timing was perfect, everything in the house was finally set for a weekend of useless fun, Jack and Bitty where still not there and now everyone was crouching in-front of the small screen and arguing about the first video to watch at the big TV. It wasn't long and the whole gang was drinking and laughing while browsing through random files and documents. They found countless pictures of Bitty and Jack as children, with their families and friends during vacations and holidays, the usual and ordinary junk everyone could remember themselve more or less.

A certain folder suspiciously named “private” promised the long searched entertainment, so Lardo opened random videos. The general expectations where not disappointed, of course it contained porn. Everyone cheered on with what was going on at the screen, as if they where in a hockey-play supporting their team. One video was of Jack with a certain well known Russian Hockey-Player and the gang was suddenly stunned into silence when there was a camera-angle showing the pair from below on a bed. Jack was kissing the guy and sliding over him between his legs and revealing a fair view of the famous athlete's glorious bum. Shitty was out of his mind and jabbering nonsense about Jack's back as if it was a godsend gift to an ungrateful mankind. Ransom and Holster looked impressed at the screen, eventually exchanging 'dude' and 'man' while Dex and Nurxe calmed a concerned and beet-red Chowder down somehow. Suddenly Shitty shot from the floor to his feet yelping and everyone looked at him. He was beaming in excitement while he tried to explain a genius plan, something about revenge on Jack and stuff involved. The others, except Lardo, had a hard time understanding what he was going on about and due to their concentration none of them mentioned two visitors entering the room silently until a woman spoke.

Suddenly arrived had Robert “Bad Bob” Zimmermann and his wife Alicia, who just casually dropped some long to be remembered words to a very selected (and stunned) audience. Shitty was suddenly very silent and very much not moving. But the rest of the former college-team, and some of the actual team, was as well, out of several reasons. While Ransom and Holster had stopped their motions of taking a drink, Chowder was holding his breath in danger to faint any-time soon whereas Dex and Nurse exchanged stunned looks and Lardo was internally planning the logistics of “mission – clean up” ready to secretly get into motion if the chance would come.

Thankfully Bob Zimmermann came to the aid without even noticing just one of the gang, his focus automatically trained on the screen, violently forcing his vision into a tunnel-view of surprise, shock and rising anger. Years of impulse-controlling-training and anger-management made his first move to search for his wife Alicia. She was usually a source of calmness to ground him, but her cool demeanour was actually irritating him even more. Being quiet and smiling assuringly at the people in the room as if nothing noteworthy happened made him start to see red. His second choice of calm was on another continent and not available right at that moment. But maybe his third was and so he stormed out of the room after a serious (angry) and forceful (loud) statement to his wife to call their son Jack.

Meanwhile Alicia shrugged her shoulders and sat down on the couch next to Lardo, wriggling into the soft sheets and getting comfortable. She watched the movements around her to clean up a bit while Lardo feigned indifference and tried to distract here a bit. Alicia was wearing a fashionable but comfortable jogging dress, her shoulder long hair tied in a simple knot, just a light make-up and red sneakers. Lardo complimented her casual appearance and was also somehow directing Ransom and Holster into bringing Jack's mother a polished glass and fresh water. Dex and Nursey moved around the room suspiciously and Chowder was still sitting on the floor awestruck like a deer in sudden flash-light. Alicia just chuckled and plainly asked for the video and what was going on. So Lardo wasted no further time in pretending something else as the truth and explained about the searching and finding the laptop. Meanwhile everyone had calmed back down and was already chatting in excitement again. Suddenly Shitty mentioned his concern about his great idol, for some unknown reasons so far, and followed Bob Zimmermann into the hall. Alicia didn't try to stop him, but she advised not to tell Bob what to do.

While Shitty got all his courage together, and some of his clothes on the way as well, to march into the hall, a slightly confused and overwhelmed Chowder had somehow come to rest his head on Alicia Zimmermann's lap. He felt his mind spinning at first, but Alicia carded her fingers over his scalp, told some stories about Bad Bob at home and now he actually still felt a bit dizzy, but more cosy-dizzy.

Everyone in the room listened to the probably most told story about the famous hockey-player who liked shouting and brawling, got impulsive under stress, but never got really dangerous outside of hockey. And while Chowder hummed contently, Dex suspiciously questioned the good news behind that information. Nurse patted him on the shoulder and told him to chill. Lardo questioned Shitty's well-being alone with Bob in the hall. Meanwhile Ransom and Holster where gathering on the ground as well, trying to climb over Chowder to ask Alicia why she wanted to watch the porn. Everything became far to messy for the goalie's liking, so he tried to interrupt the actual plot and started to talk about something of a silly joke, just a misunderstanding gone wild and that no-one was seriously considering a revenge on Jack or something. Well, for some reason the good Chowder just made it all worse, because after this even the former cool of Alicia was lost in demand of getting the whole story.

The room erupted in a short debate about privacy, intimacy, tolerance and a-right-to-know-what-my-son-is-up-to through which Chowder mentally tuned out off, willing to spend the rest of the evening lying silently in his most favourite actresses lap to let her pet his hair. Eventually the heated argument got settled and all participants as well. So Ransom served Alicia another fresh polished glass, Holster poured a mineral water and Lardo told the story of how Jack Laurent Zimmermann caused doom on himself once to his best bro Shitty B. Knight. In the end, all visitors in Jack's sitting-room where finally settled back again comfortably and Alicia was pretty sure that the evening was just getting better and better. Even if her son and his boyfriend where still due to arrive. Or maybe because of that.

Shitty glanced around the corners of the hall and followed the agitated voice to the staircase. Bob was stabbing at his phone, muttering to himself, pacing around and ignoring Shitty. So Shitty shuffled around the older athlete nervously, clearing his throat while searching for the right thing to say. He finally babbled something about that everything was cool and nothing to worry about. Bob continued to ignore him still trying to get the phone to do what he wanted. So Shitty cleared his throat again, laid his hand tentatively on the older man's nearest shoulder and started to talk about how Jack would calm himself down and he could try the same and so on when he felt Bob Zimmermann suddenly tensing through his whole body.

He turned to look at Shitty furiously, who froze into silence. The older man hurled himself around his axis with a jolt and set his phone flying across the hall right through the door of the sitting-room, not only causing a reasonable whole in the process with a serious amount of noise, but also some shouting, and suddenly cheering as well for whatever reason, from inside the room. Before Shitty could even do anything he was faced again by one angry Bob Zimmermann and also his very angry French-Canadian shouting into his face with finger-pointing and name-calling and everything. Minutes or hours later Bob turned again and left Shitty to stomp through the hall following the path of the phone. Pushing the door open he entered the sitting room to find silence and big eyes trained on him. In reaction to his searching movements everyone pointed at Chowder still sitting at Alicia's feet, but not peacefully resting any more. The good goalie got a tight hold of the thing, but he seemed to be in some state of shock when Bob wrenched the item out of his hands.

Alicia asked Bob if there was somebody troubling him and the former athlete launched into a flow of swearing and gesticulating while trying to get the phone to work. When he mentioned the final state of his phone, it was destroyed, he just threw it back into the hall. Just before he left the room, too, Alicia told him, that she would call Jack and he could speak to him when he returned back. Lardo gave her a phone immediately which was already dialling Jack's number. It was picked up in an instant and Alicia interrupted the apologies for the missed calls. It wasn't actually important that Jack couldn't answer the phone through driving and sitting on it, because it was in his back-pocket and he had switched places with Bitty so he could call back, bad Papá wasn't answering his phone. Within a minute he was filled into the situation at the house and Alicia could practically feel the embarrassment seeping through the phone and replacing any former concerns. Eventually Jack just sighed and confirmed that everything was all-right, just Shitty and the gang being … Shitty and the gang. So after Alicia reminded him not to worry to much and let Bitty drive, he was calm enough again and ready to speak with his father. Bob had meanwhile arrived in the sitting-room again, pacing around while listening to his wife and going through several calming-practises on his own. Alicia told Jack her good-byes and Bob signed her impatiently that he wanted to get the phone now.

As soon as he got the item he headed right back into the hall talking in agitation. Just as everyone, except Alicia, heaved a sigh of relief, the older man came back again, shepherding a mostly catatonic Shitty roughly through the door in-front of him before finally retrieving the room, not once interrupting his fuming telephone-speech. Shitty was white as the literal sheet and at least lightly in shock, as far as the sweating and shivering was any indication. So Ransom covered him with a blanket and Holster gave him a beer. Lardo tried to get to know what happened and he finally started to tell what happened to him with a flat voice and eyes big like saucers.

What he remembered was that he tried to calm Bob Zimmermann down by talking to his shoulder. He had heard all the stories of course, 'don't touch him, don't talk to him', but he somehow always thought, Alicia was actually more 'Bad' than Jack's friendly, charming, hip-injured Papá. But he was perfectly and clearly corrected when Bob was finally done with him. While standing in the hall alone after watching the phone and the older man leaving into the sitting-room, he knew he was most likely going to die soon and didn't dare to breath even though Zimmermann was gone. But suddenly the phone came flying back in his direction and he just stared at the thing unable to move. Then Bob Zimmermann came flying back into the hall, too, and stared at the phone as well. Some seconds, or hours, or aeons, Shitty wasn't entirely sure, Bob stared directly at him. He had pumped himself up in-front of Shitty and spilled a flood of slurs, swearing and promises of misfortune over him. Bob must have stopped sometime though, but Shitty was already in shock and just kept standing there. When Bob came back into the hall again for some reason, he had just grabbed Shitty's shoulder with his huge left hand and shoved him around the building. Shitty was scared to death, trying to deal with his faith of getting into history-books, because he was the half-naked dude Bad Bob Zimmermann casually choked to death with one hand while chatting on the phone by the way. At least he was wearing pants, his grandmother could rest in peace eventually. After the story ended with a meaningful silence Shitty took a big swig of his beer. He sighed heavily and when some French-Canadian shouting was heard from the hall he confessed his never-ending love for Bob Zimmermann and Lardo wisely served him a cognac to prevent a serious shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was first some kind of plot and I finished it months ago. During that time I thought a lot about Lardo and why everone thinks she is cool, so I left any hints to her gender in this chapter, because I found the idea of Bitty thinking Lardo is a huge, white guy somehow interesting. And Shitty is my best friend, too.


	3. Not a Show for Kent Parson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent Parson gets into some introspection, because he had to witness Jack having sex by accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me ages to get this 5+1-thing into some kind of a proper title that I changed during the updates anyway, so don't mind the plot-gap to much. Finally Kit Purrson appears and there even is a small Cabin Pressure-hint if you look closely. You don't know Cabin Pressure? Here is www.google.com :)

Kent Parson was not a person tending to constant retrospection, torturous self evaluation or other kinds of superior intellectual tasks. You would think, Kent E. Parson was a soul of current situations, mostly impulsive, just loud, stupidly cocky and adventurous at best. Kent Parson is not the stereotypical person you would suspect to have a well educated, intelligent, foreseeing, adulterated mind. And that is exactly what one Kent „KeyPass“ Parson, first known front center Hockey Player and mega-size self-made superhero, wants you to think about him. At 26 years the professional athlete gave a decent poop about what other people may think of him beyond his public appearance, full-stop. That didn’t mean however, the young dickhead behaved like some kind of hooligan all the time, raising anarchy on the ice and destruction around the ring far and wide. Kent Parson was one big child, always ready for fun and stupid ideas, never one to jump back off a bigger guy or being afraid of the occasional 'clip around the ear'. All this was more than true, but you might be a fool to think, that was all of what Kent Parson was about, and so you should be.

Everyone who went to know Kent Parson would agree, that he is an arrogant mouthful, some small guy with no filter between brain and tongue, not necessarily the brightest bulb in the building, but a sneaky cat on the ice who liked to show his bare butt at the enemy and a quick fighter who aimed to cut opponents down fast, lying defenseless on the ice like chicken on their back. Everybody would agree on that. And everybody would be rather surprised to see, that the small superstitious macho storm of Vegas was more than just the offensive, self celebrating athlete.

And that was why Kent Parson found himself in situations like these, more often than he possibly thought of. You have to know, out of personal experience and long periods of suffering through, Kent felt like it was his right to flip off opinions by people who didn't know him one bit at all. But that meant, everybody thought, that you are a stupid, blind fool. Kent was okay with that, even though it meant to be treated like said fool most of the time. On the other side he wasn't bothered to much by complicated interviews, everything has at least two sides. But saving his real self to those who where truly worth it, payed off for the annoyance. And he learned to find the behavior towards him pretty amusing as time went on. Well, it was hard to learn who your friend is or not by the fool-proof-way, but in the end Kent E. Parson kept his privacy and nobody was one the wiser about him or even his own personal opinions.

But sometimes the stupidity of people who thought where superior to him was bordering on frustration. Like this time, with some “friends”. At first, it was just him and Jack Zimmermann. A usual video-chat about hockey, and the NHL, and stuff, and hockey. It was nor happy or exciting, just two former friends catching up. At some point, Eric Bittle appeared on the screen and invited himself politely into the conversation. Much to the joy of Jack, as it seemed, while Kent waited for a good moment to sneak out off the conversation. They where chatting back and forth, Eric opened some bottle of beer and Jack was all over him, forgetting about the chat, only having eyes for his “Bitty”. Kent scoffed inwardly but said nothing, tending for polite for a chance, following the conversation with the southern boy and mostly just watching Jack. At some point it was clear, chatting with Kent was over, as Jack was far off and Bitty whether drunk or not interested in talking to Kent, the older blonde wasn't sure nor did he care. He said his good byes and left his laptop sitting on the counter after getting the answers. He strolled trough his flat, bypassing the kitchen and the bathroom, eventually ready to get into bed with Kit and his Laptop.

When he took both the computer and the cat, something was off. The device was still giving off some kind of noise, so as soon as Kent placed Kit on the duvet he woke up the screen and if someone was looking, they may have seen a very surprised impression on his face.

Well, Kent Parson was a famous athlete, a fearless player and of course he would just look surprised but follow his sportive tactic on instinct when confronted with a situation like this, hide-score-surprise. So when he settled himself into the bed silently and Kit started to purr, he hushed the cat and turned off the microphone of the laptop. Now that he felt safely 'hidden' he processed what there was on his screen and a flash of thoughts rushed through his mind. Some where funny, some where teasing, but most of them where just silent images of faceless people with shaking heads of disbelief and shame for others.

Namely for Eric “Bitty” Bittle and the great Jack Zimmerman. The one and only Jack Zimmerman himself, famous and legendary, pride of Canada, a sight to behold on the ice ... actually humping his smallish 'boyfriend' like … whatever it looked like, it wouldn't get high scores on xtube, Kent thought. The performance was rather unspectacular, if not to say dull, as far es sex goes anyway, and he frowned.

Jack was always … different than Kent was. Where he was loud, Jack was silent, but they got along smoothly, because Kent enjoyed the calm shelf Jack could be and the older boy reached for the noise surrounding the smaller man. In the end it was all just a blur of hormones and pharmaceutics, the more time went the less real it became. And eventually even Jack had gotten to the point where the memories lost their sting and he let Parse talk. Of course Kent knew, it wasn't Jack's fault they where terrible for each other. And it wasn't his fault Jack got into addiction and out of the Roster. All that was said and demanded to be the truth endless times and Kent was done with all of it. But he still felt a great unintentional pull whenever he caught sight of Jack. He made him hurt, sad and angry at himself and everything without actually trying.

So maybe it was with some amount of snark Kent watched Jack and 'Bitty' bucking on the screen. He tried to think it was fun, the super-clever Jack and his oh-so-sweet-Bitty grunting and wrestling somehow and they had no clue Kent was watching, those two oblivious idiots. He also tried to think of something cheeky or even a prank, because the situation screamed for a bad pun. But all he could finally think about was how silly and annoying this laps was. Seriously, how many beer did Bittle have already? What was Jack thinking? Was it so very difficult to shut the laptop before getting into it? It where times like these in which Kent wasn't sure if he was The-Stupid-One or Jack or what.

On the screen Jack and Bittle somehow altered their position and the blonde started to make high meowing noises. As secret cameras are supposed to be, the video-quality was terrible, the light was indifferent and both men where only visible from the waist down. But Kent didn't need better quality, light or view to get that there where two people having very blunt intercourse. At least Jack had a lot of stamina, as far as the ongoing timer of the video-chat told him and there was some muffled talking and sloppy kissing. Kent wondered how drunk someone had to be to get off from this kind of sad stuffing and if Bittle had enough time to get that drunk after breakfast. Though he seemed to be in good drinking condition. Or was the little Georgian just that kind of a stupid fuck? Parson tried to re-evaluate his intimate experiences with Jack to those he was actually more or less forced to witness. After one minute of internal cinema he just called it off and privately refused to be that same kind of stupid fuck as Bittle. So he actually frowned at the laptop and crossed his arms in front of his chest in pronounced defiance.

Sure they must love each other and that does a lot to ones libido, Kent knew that, but this, THIS, was offending. Kent wasn't sure how his former best friend could endorse in something blatant like this. Jack was even still wearing socks, kneeling between the wide spread legs of the small Southerner, who was just sprawled on his back like a starfish overrun by the tide. Kent imagined Bittle like a starfish on its back, his mouth opening and closing confused while the picture morphed into a whimpering Bittle, his pink hole like the searching mouth of the starfish waiting for Jack's cock. Kent shook his head, even his sick imagination wasn't funny and he focused on the screen again. Just the sound of skin on skin and some primal noises left the speakers and the long minutes ticked on. 'Seriously, guys', Kent thought rather bored and was still waiting until something interesting would happen. Kit was already asleep.

Kent Parson took a real effort to stay the open-minded sophisticated adult he thought of himself to be, but it was difficult. He thought about the intense experiences he had and the rather casual ones as well. Hours morphing into days of enjoyable make-outs came to his mind and rushed, heated-up, blunt and short make-outs that he had lost count of as a mass of anonymous ruts. Sure, not all his moves where prime pictures of elegance, but the bold display of fucking on his screen was just sad in Kent's humble opinion. Of course he enjoyed a mind blowing bareback with some strong and generously endowed guy mounting him. Jack was well equipped, though not so much it would reasonably cause this kind of racket 'Bitty' was making up. And was he even doing something else except lying on his back and letting Jack stuff his pert little ass? Kent saw no other movement than Jack's forceful thrusts into the smaller man's body. His face was hidden into Bittle's neck, muffled grunts and huffing got caught by the microphone. Was Jack really getting off like that these days? Maybe the better medication was finally working, Kent thought. Or he was just horny or 'Bitty' was just that hot. He contemplated about the possibility that Jack had just changed that much since they got lost of each other. Though several serious rumors about Jack and some of his team-mates had come to Kent's knowledge proving definitely otherwise. A flush of concern for his friend crossed his mind. He had known Jack very well, the bright and the dark sides of him and he was silently afraid of the dark ones still. Well, he shouldn't start to jump from stupid fucks to emergency scenarios because his company was idiotic. Not even Kent Parson could save a single soul and he brushed the lingering thoughts of Jack in need of help aside for the time being, but keeping his suspicions in mind.

He had to admit though, that Bittle was good for Jack in many ways and he could understand the effect the small Southerner had on the athlete. It was okay, Kent thought, he wouldn't change with either of them anyway and he could just be happy for others to be happy. Nothing to write home about. So with the knowledge of Jack's tight and secure network Kent was fairly sure, everything was quite alright. And his best friend just had depressingly boring sex. Ugh … why was he even looking at them? It could also be a gif, Jack surely must get tired at some point. Kent rested his chin on one hand and stared at the screen. It was a shame, he couldn't see something closer, the noises of Jack's cock pushing into 'Bitty's' arse was wet and filthy. Kent would have liked to feed his curiosity of details, because it never failed to be interesting to watch genitals, not only on camera. He always made a show of observing and admiring, never closing his eyes long during sex. Well, a proper zoom would make this whole ordeal a bit more appealing if nothing else. Eventually Jack shifted a bit and Kent could catch hints between his legs. His testicles where moving with each thrust and rested softly on Bittle's crack when he made an especially deep, slow push. The smaller man gasped and babbled something about being full or stuff, Kent didn't pay much attention to the guy. Jack was breathing hard, shifting for different angles, most likely to increase friction, not even anything near climax and Kent knew, this could go on for even longer.

Kent Parson was not on oblivious dick, of course he had boring sex, even bad sex as well. Nobody was expected to perform on top of the prom, but he couldn't fight the impression he got of Bittle by watching him. Sure, Jack was strong and effective, Kent privately hoped, this was just one of those times for the couple. He wasn't one to judge from one single look. But this was getting ridiculous the more time went by, he just couldn't fight it like Jack did, maybe could deep in his mind trying to get them both off by sheer force of will. So Kent decided not to strain his mind to much as Jack did with his body, there was no point.

Kent huffed, flopped into his pillow and rested one hand on Kit's fluffy white stomach. Jack was still pumping into a wheezing 'Bitty' and Kent watched their movements with vanishing patience. If the noise Bittle was emitting was anything to go by, he was enjoying himself enormously. An endless chanting of ah's and yes's and more's and oh-jack's accompanied by the older man's huffing. Surely, private intimacy was nothing to be judged, but this … display of affection was just a waste of time, so Kent closed the laptop and shoved it over the covers near the edge of the bed. “I really hope, you get a better show than me, Kit Purrson”, he cooed and placed a noisy smooch on Kit's forehead, getting a sleepy meow in response. He took it as affirmation, snuggled the big Ragdoll to his chest and settled down to sleep.


	4. KPxxx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric drives to Providence via train and a video send by Jack brings everything a bit out of line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sexual content finally :) and, as per ususal, a lot of words before that XD

As per their mutual effort, Bitty and Jack managed to meet in Providence during the last year of Eric being at Samwell for school. As soon as classes and training and at least some damage control of calling chores to the Haus-mates where done, Bitty left the campus heading north. He only carried a light bag and his laptop (and his phone, thank you!) and caught the first train to Providence he could get. Although Jack offered to get him an own car was always refused by the small but stubborn Georgian, he let himself be tempted to use first class and get a taxi to Jack's flat. And the occasionally sweet and heavy with cream, heavy milk and syrup stained coffee, of course. Today he allowed himself an overpriced super-healthy sandwich, because he skipped lunch to get an early train.

So Eric found himself comfortably full and pleasantly snuggled into a plush seat all alone to himself at the far end of the compartment. With his ears stuffed and muffled by headphones and a calming playlist, Bitty watched the surpassing landscape outside the cold window as the sun was vanishing into dawn slowly. It was nice, warm and fairly quiet. Eric stretched and yawned against the haze overflowing him. If he slept on the train, he would be woken up by the unfriendly service-lady, leaving the train in a struggle, most likely forget something on his way and falling down the stairs of the station and so on. A Bitty violently forced out of sleep was an uncoordinated, brain-dead idiot on a mission to disaster and embarrassment.

His first aim was to change the playlist into something more exciting. After some more stretching and getting a cold bottle of water out of his bag, he took three sips and shuddered through the chills the sparkling drink caused to his system. He picked his phone up after retrieving the bottle back and texted Jack in search for distraction.

Bitty: 'gonna fall asleep and die'

Jack answered immediately, he had a break then.

Jack: 'I don't think so'

Heartless, humorless Canadian!

Bitty: 'gonna die though. Seriouzs'

Jack: 'Okay. I tell your mom you love her, okay?'

Bitty: 'oxoxox'

Bitty: 'dont forget my moomaw and coach and chowder and lardo and shitty and ransom and holster and the rest of the team and your mum and your dad'

Jack: 'Okay' _thumps-up-emoji_

That was all? Weak! But a second message arrived shortly afterwards.

Jack: 'What do I tell them why you are dead?'

Hmm, well …?

Jack: 'I think that question might come up eventually'

Oh, come on!

Eric's boyfriend was smart, handsome and lovely, but he was not funny. Bitty could use a GIF of Ransom and Holster declaring Jack as lame, if he had one available and if he knew Jack would at least try to open it up. So he just sighed to himself and wrote a message back.

Eric: 'I fell asleep on the train and you know where that leads to. Tell my mama I tried my hardest, but my heartless smart-pants boyfriend refused to venture to my rescue.'

Eric: 'Be sure to wear your full gear when delivering the sad news. I guess you won't need it for coach and mama … but moomaw? … fair warning'

Eric: 'And there won't be any baking or cooking for you in the future. Not. At. All. My moomaw will make sure of it over her cold dead body even!'

Bitty just kept typing through the dancing-dots that showed Jack somehow typing as well until finally a reply came in.

Jack: 'So if you fall asleep it will all be my fault?'

Eric: 'and no pie'

Eric: 'Never. Ever. Again.'

It took a rather long time for Jack to reply, even the little dots stopped dancing meanwhile. Bitty thought of another message, but it was no fun to be dramatic and silly under this circumstances. He thought about texting Lardo, but she was busy. Eric thought nothing was going to happen any more, because Jack seemed to be done with writing. He was most likely going back to practice, or sharpening his blades or taping his sticks or something and that was it. But suddenly a new message arrived.

Jack: 'If I had the time, I would get my amour, climb my horse and come to rescue you. Unfortunately there is Hockey to play for me soon. Sooooo sorry oxoxox'

Eric: 'you don't have a horse. can you even ride one?'

Eric: 'and I think you don't even have a shining amour'

Eric: 'this is a very sad story about my tragically early death, ya know?' _crying emojis in a row_

Jack: RIP XD

At least one of them seemed to think Jack was kinda funny. It was indeed a sad story, Bitty thought. He frowned over another reply when Jack wrote again.

Jack: 'Bits, I am sorry, but I need to go back to practice'

Now Bitty sighed heavily, it was something he mentioned doing himself rather often.

Jack: 'But I found something you might want to watch?'

As fast as possible Bitty replied:

Bitty: 'Yay'

Bitty: 'My hero' _string of heart-eyed emojis_

Twelve seconds later a video for download appeared on Bitty's phone-screen and he stabbed it vigorously to accept the process. Meanwhile Jack sent another message and Bitty left the progress-bar of the download alone to read instead.

Jack: 'Hope you are alone in your seat ;)'

What an this good earth …?

Jack: 'I turn off my phone now. See you later. Can't wait. ILOVEYOU!'

Bitty smiled at their little joke about the capital letters without space characters and replied the same. But Jack had already shut down his phone so the message was left undelivered and unread.

Eric startled himself out of his hazy state, because he was sure, if someone was observing him, it would seem ridiculous to stare at his phone grinning. Okay, time for composure, Eric Bittle told his brain and he looked around the other seats. It was unusually empty and he remembered, that he gathered a seat at the end of the department. So when his phone flashed up with the notification that the download was completed, he huddled himself back into the seat facing to the front. He held the phone just inches away from his nose in anticipation of the frozen image of the video that would pop up at first. When it finally showed up, Eric took a surprised breath.

Okay, the file was named KeyPixxx, that seemed not suspicious enough to not cover his head with the hoodie. But Jack had mentioned something of being alone, so Bitty had made sure that nobody was literally peeping behind his back. The first image of the new video Jack had sent Eric one uneventful Friday afternoon during a train-ride was Jack Zimmermann himself and Kent Parson looking into the camera. Jack seemed confused and exited, but sat still and watched Kent fiddling with the device. Kent was busy adjusting the camera, his eyebrows drawn together in concentration, the tip of his tongue was visible at the corner of his mouth. And as far as the camera-angle could tell, they where both naked.

Eric hadn't actually expected this kind of distraction and was not prepared, although xxx … it should have give him a warning in hindsight.

Part2

Bitty blinked hard at the screen. Okay, so his boyfriend was smart, handsome and lovely, not funny, but unpredictable. Jack almost always fooled Bitty somehow and sending this video was no exception. He had nearly forgotten about 'the videos' he and Jack had been talking about … sometime ago. But Jack obviously had the better memory. Or maybe he was just waiting for the best moment to send one of them to Bitty. There was even the slightest chance that his move came out of a sudden haste and he was going to regret it later. But Bitty was almost certain that everything was fine with Jack. He was doing Hockey and Bitty watched dirty videos in a train. Everything was fine.

They had talked about each others private thoughts countless times, because there was much talking to compensate for the missing company. One of those times Bitty had told Jack about a mobile-phone-video-incident that had occurred during a recent EpiKegster. When Jack had opened the Skype-Call there was no time for Bitty to waist on greetings and niceties. He was agitated, his face was red, he was bouncing cross-legged on his bed and gesticulating with his hands, because apparently somebody accidentally got a sex-tape of someone and it seemed to do things to Bitty. Jack blinked through the vivid explanations of his boyfriend on the screen and was baffled by it. The young Georgian was a bundle of agitation and it took the Canadian a while to get the point, or more of several points, lots of points in fact. Bitty was mainly embarrassed, for the girl everyone was making fun about now. He was filled with indignation about people who did things like spreading other people's business. He was angry and upset and it all resulted into one main question for Eric: Why on this good green earth would someone even make a video like this? He thought it was risky at least and Jack thought it was hot.

What?

Bitty stared at Jack, well he stared at Jack's image on his screen and for a second the older man wondered why the animated chatting had suddenly stopped. Then it came to his mind, that he had just said something and after that Bitty had started staring at him through the camera with big eyes.

“You think it's hot?”, Bitty asked with a small voice.

“Uh …”.

“You mean hot as in you would make videos of yourself having sex because it's hot?!”

“Well, I already did, so that …”.

Bitty gasped in shock and crossed his hands over his chest.

“You made videos of yourself having sexy times? I can't believe it. Jack!”

Okay, time for damage-control, Jack thought, because in the end he was the one who started it.

“It's okay, Bitty. They are safe on my laptop in Montreal, I left it at home, because … It's no use here. And they are years old. In fact initially it was Kenny's idea, I think.”

Bitty gasped again, now covering his mouth with both of his hands.

“There are VIDEOS of you and Kent Parson having sex?”, he sounded muffled because he was still covering his mouth.

“I'm sorry, I know it was childish and stupid, it seemed like a good idea then. But you are right, I should delete them. Haven't even watched them afterwards. I'm not even sure the computer is still okay.” Jack felt increasingly embarrassed the more he thought about the topic. What was he even thinking? What was he even thinking to say it was hot when he wasn't even asked for his opinion? What might Bitty think about him now? Mon Dieu he had managed to ruin a perfectly fine moment with one single stupid sentence. As he so often did. He became nervous but Bitty shook his head violently.

“No, I mean, there are videos on this earth of you and Kent Parson having sex and still I haven't heard or seen anything about them? Do I have to feel neglected? Did Shitty see them?”, Bitty seemed ready to jump into the screen with excitement, the former topic forgotten, and Jack felt confused.

“What? Crisse, non! Nobody saw them, just Kenny and me. It was a private thing between the two of us. Not to show around!”

Bitty calmed down visibly.

“Oh, I understand. Sorry to be rude and indiscreet.”

“It's okay, Bitty”, Jack calmed down as well.

“But … if you don't mind me asking, why did you make them in the first place. I mean, I get the idea, but … okay, I'm just a simple soul from the south. Why taping when nobody is going to see? I mean … ugh, this question is not as dumb as it sounds, because … You saw each other and had sex with each other. Why recording that?”

Jack didn't think the question was too stupid.

“It was Kenny's idea … he brought it up because apparently I tended to tell him, how nice and beautiful he was”, Bitty awed at Jack and smiled lovingly at him.

“Uh, that sounded nicer than it was, because if I recall correctly, I told him how hot it was to fuck him, which he couldn't see, of course.”

Bitty held a hand in-front of his mouth and giggled at that.

“And of course he couldn't see MY ass at all so he came up with the brilliant idea of sex-videos. I only agreed to get along if he would look after the camera and light and stuff. How could I know the little shit would jump up and run to his mother in his pants to wake her and ask for her camera?”

Bitty was laughing and squealing with delight, holding his belly and rolling on his back over the mattress. It made a pleasant warm feeling spread through Jack's chest. Just warmth and affection and happiness, no stress or fear or anxiety. At some point Bitty found back to his composure, catching his breath and wiping happy tears out of his eyes.

“Of course it would be that logical … and completely weird, of course.”

“That was Kenny for you, although he always says, he is a grown up now.”

Bitty pursed his lips and oh-ed as if impressed.

“And when I laugh at him, he stalks off to tell his cat how mean I am and that she is advised to hurt me anytime.”

Another flash of laughter threw Bitty on his back again and when Jack made Bambi-eyes at him and wobbled his upper-lip because Bitty wasn't taking this threat to his boyfriend serious enough, he hid his head against the wall.

“Ouch”, he felt across his head for a bump.

“That's for laughing at me, Bittle”, Jack mentioned casually with a superior look on his face and Bitty glared at the camera with a mixture of anger and offense. He made an unhappy noise and flinched at the pressure of his fingers on his head.

“Are you okay?”, Jack was immediately concerned.

“Yah, honeybun', just bumped ma' head'a bit.”

“Oh, good”, Jack sighed in relief.

“But no-one there to kiss it better”, Bitty pouted into the camera and how could a grown man, an athlete even, look so pretty and cute? If Jack was with Bitty, he would totally kiss every available part of him right then.

“Well, in this case, I certainly have to make up for it.”

“Huh?”, Bitty looked excited again.

“Just you wait, Itty Bitty”, Jack grinned and Bitty huffed, but he knew there where always pleasantries exchanged between each other. So he just started telling Jack about his remaining adventures during the last hours and the initial matter was forgotten so far.

Part3

So far so good, or so it seemed. Bitty was excited to see the video. But he also felt kind of strange because of recent events he couldn't quite put the finger on yet. Although he felt almost at ease with Kent as he felt with other mutual friends of him and Jack, he couldn't help the feeling, that Kent was recently behaving strange around them. But maybe he was just over-thinking things and Kent was just his crazy self as usual. He took one last checking look around himself and started the video.

The frozen image turned to life and Eric watched the lightly younger self's of Jack and Kent. The blonde was leaning to the camera and it shook a bit when he took some adjustments. Jack was watching him, sighing deeply at some point.

“Hold on, dude!” of course Kent would use that term at that age, Bitty thought to himself and chuckled about mental images about Shitty gasping at the topic, but he focused back on the video with another check of his actual surroundings. Finding anything changed, he concentrated his view on the tiny screen, where Kent and Jack where into some heavy kissing.

Jack's face was flushed, his eyes where closed, moaning silently now and then. Kent was silently dominating the intensity, stroking the inside of Jack's legs, who seemed to be melting into Kent's embrace. The smaller man stroked between Jack's legs, took his half erection in a firm hand and gave it some experienced pulls. The taller man all but went limp, deflating into himself with a deep sigh and an impression on his face Bitty wasn't sure he had seen before. Kent used the moment to gently nudge Jack further up the bed to lay back. Jack ended with his feet off the mattress and the change of lightning softened his features. He watched Kent rummaging around next to the bed, and smiled with deep breaths … and a certain joy of the view on Kent's butt. Said owner didn't seem to care, but finally satisfied with everything, straddling Jack's hips and kissing him with a smooth move of his pelvis. When he lifted his head and started to grind his erection against Jack, the older man was moaning deeply, arching into the sensation with strong moves. There was some mumbling, Kent scoffed, they kissed and Jack pulled the smaller man flush on top of him with a chuckle and Kent huffed. They talked about something in french between kisses Bitty couldn't even hear properly and he huffed. They where totally having fun, Jack was all touchy-feely and kissy … well.

Bitty knew already how much his boyfriend enjoyed kissing, right to the point, that they only kissed, when Jack was sure, they where totally undisturbed and unobserved. Because it definitely didn't take much to get Jack going through kissing. So until now Bitty had taken this to his advantage, because of the most often limited time they could have alone. Jack got turned on until they where undressed, then some neck-nipping and nipple-licking while getting him hard to do a sloppy-wet blowjob so Jack could fuck him. Bitty wasn't sure what these thoughts really meant right now. And as if on a clue Kent on the screen was leaving Jack's neck finally to stroke the strong muscles of his chest and suck his nipples one after another. He took a very long time in Bitty's mind and he scrunched his nose, because of course they seemed to have all the time in the world to even make a little movie of all things. He wondered if Jack would agree to something like that right now, but that was another thought.

Jack on the screen seemed boneless, half-mindlessly stroking Kent's head, his arms and shoulders, breathing deeply and silently talking, maybe telling Kent how good he was or something sappy that sounded great in french. Kent seemed to at least guess right what he meant, because he chuckled at the right times Jack said something with a smirk or followed polite preferences and made Jack close his eyes with a gasp. Bitty watched the other blonde slowly moving lower on Jack, leaving long strokes and nuzzling kisses along the trail. He tried to guess what Kent's Plan was up to next, because the guy clearly had one or at least knew exactly what he did and kept it to himself until last, he wasn't sure. Though he expected a blow-job for a truce, at least, because privately this was a serious competition. He was certain, Jack and himself had great sex, the circumstances including and he tried not to feel too selfish. He made a mental mark to make a literal mark later to talk to Jack about that thought. Surely he could give instructions in English as well? Bitty was sure, he would have said something that bothered him and silently hoped, it was just the Canadian's deep rooted politeness or that he enjoyed it really much and silenced the voice that tried to tell him, he was a selfish, inattentive boyfriend.

He shook his head off the thought for later and on the screen Kent had eventually found his way down to Jack's crotch. He mouthed around the red flushed erection with closed eyes, just kissing and licking along the length. Jack was laying back with tightly closed eyes, breathing hard and stroking through Kent's hair with one hand and … holding Kent's left hand with the other hand … well. Bitty had to admit, they never did that, holding hands during sex. Clutching and pulling at sheets and stuff, but somehow not holding hands. It seemed nice and kinda cute, Bitty had to give Kent credit, because he held Jack's hip down elegantly with his arm and Jack could comfortably hold onto his hand in a firm grip. With a noisy wet kiss to the head of Jack's cock Kent left a gasping Jack to get a small dispenser from under a pillow next to Jack and dropped a generous amount of a thick liquid on his thigh. Then he wrenched the pillow between Jack's legs. It turned out, that it was one of these long pillows Bitty had initially known where used by mothers to breast-feet their infants easily. But at Samwell he soon learned, that they where great for sleeping on the side. Jack had one and Bitty had failed until now to get one or wish for one, because they where great. Bitty had imagined Jack snuggling into the pillow with one leg on top if it.

On the screen though Kent playfully nudged Jack's legs onto the pillow, leaving them open but relaxed. Kent knew absolutely what he was doing when he slicked up Jack's cock with the most likely body-warm lube, Bitty was sure and he was jealous of the used motions that told of lots of experience. Not that he envied Kent Parson of all people, but there was a certain point. When the giggling and mumbling stopped, he saw Kent kneeling in-front of the camera, adjusting the angle again, seemingly deep in thought while Jack was most likely chirping him.

“'course ya like whatja see, ey?”, he drawled into the camera with a mischievous grin, left the item with a small shuffle backwards over Jack's lap. When he leaned back and spread his legs with an uplift of his butt, Jack moaned and cursed in french, at least Bitty caught that much. There was some wet sound that left Kent's mouth open, his eyes fell shut and he let his head dip down with a silent oh. Jack chuckled and hummed, doing something around Kent's bum, the wet sound continued. Kent began to breath harder, rolling his lower body with a rhythm Jack seemed to give him. With every movement he became more agitated and finally gasped surprised, then stopped with a low moan, the other man chuckled. With a final squelching sound Kent huffed through the sensation with deep breaths into his stomach. Jack tossed something off the bed and started to knead Kent's butt with strong hands.

Bitty had nothing to say against the butt-plug-trick, because he certainly could approve of being prepared to get it going soon. Though Kent didn't seem to be in any rush, grinding his arse gently into Jack's face who seemed to really enjoy what they did. If the enthusiastic grabbing around Kent's hip and pressing noisy kisses to his opening was saying anything. From this camera-angle there wasn't much detail to see, but the sheer joy and pleasure was visible and audible. Kent had his eyes closed, breathing hard through his nose and moaning softly now and then, holding himself upright on his arms with his hands on the pillow between Jack's knees.

With a wet kiss, Jack turned his face back, stroking Kent's legs and asking something with a hazy gaze somewhere between the others man's legs. With a sigh of agreement Kent pushed himself on his knees and changed his position on Jack's lap to face him now. He took a few strokes of Jack's cock and seemed satisfied with the state, because he said something to Jack and got a deep smiley-kiss. It only took some testing movements for Kent, as far as the camera showed, and he was riding Jack with effective rolls of his hips. Jack held onto the smaller man's waist to change the angle or to thrust into him with a certain attend. Soon the movements went more erratic and urgent, Jack moaned breathily and Kent started to get a bit louder, gasping open mouthed and with tightly shut eyes. When Jack took his cock into one hand and thumped the head, Kent took a sharp breath, squeezed his eyes shut and came on Jack's chest. Meanwhile his hands had found their way to Jack's chest, stroking him and twisting his nipples. Waves of pleasure seemed to rush through him and he sighed through the sensation with several sharp breaths. Jack watched him with big eyes until Kent came, then he closed his eyes as well, moaning deeply and … moaned pretty loud through his own climax. He gripped Kent's hips who partly came down from his high and started to rock gently into Jack's lap, riding out the other man's pleasure, watching his face with sounds of encouragement.

With a few last movements of his lower body Kent bent down to kiss Jack. The camera caught Jack's softening cock slide out of Kent's body, stretching the whole obscenely with the prominent head and slipping out with a dirty wet sound, leaving the whole exclusively lose and open with leaking outpour. Kent wriggled over Jack who embraced the smaller man and pressed their bodies together. It was kinda hot, Bitty had to admit and what the single camera lacked in different views it definitely paid off for the final details. Maybe Kent had thought about at least some kind of privacy. Or they just wanted the last shots, whatever. When Kent seemed to get uncomfortable and the movements forced white stained fluids running out of his whole with squelching sounds while Jack chuckled through the smaller man's complaints, the video stopped with a black screen.

Bitty closed the video and deleted it. No use in saving it on his phone for every-one to stalk after when Jack had a save file stored somewhere. He gathered his belongings and prepared for his destination, just roughly 5 minutes to go. His literal notes had to wait until Jack's apartment. Bitty had so many questions and he just hoped, there was no serious issue on his side when he had to leave the train. On his way through the station, he concentrated on the right directions to find Jack and to get home soon so he could have a good thinking and a good talking with his severely not talkative boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Bitty, but everything is okay, Jack and Eric do love each other a lot und if you want a second part to read about that, give a call :)


	5. Mind the Audience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warm, bubbling water is a soothing cure for a sore Hockey-Player's soul and body, so Marty and Jack have some sexy-time, because why ever not?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one I like the most and I hope some questions about what is going on here can are answered? Have fun :) Here you get the confusing tagging and things finally in order.

When Frank Martin was threatened to leave the medical message-bad after an hour, because the staff wanted to go home, he was not in his best mood. The tub had helped his sore muscles and only the rapidly cooling water could finally force him to leave the unit in a bathrobe and a towel over his head. Marty shuffled to the workout-unit for the team-Jacuzzi in attempt to stay in there until the housekeeper found him, or not. Passing several of his team-mates and staff members without more than an angry nod he finally got into the dressing-room for the water-unit. Marty ignored the several stalls filled with clothes and went straight to the spa. He wretched open the door and stared at the Jacuzzi. Back stared no less than six of his team-mates, huddled together into the small tub of bubbling water like startled 15-year-olds caught doing something forbidden.

What followed was a staring contest between Marty and his younger fellow athletes, because the older man was determined to pull each of them out of the pool by their ears and the crowd in the tub knew it. And they knew they had to act soon, because Marty was obviously not quite as patient as usual. After some throat-clearing and awkward shuffling, five of the guys left the water silently and passed a still glaring Martin with forced friendly nods. Within a hush the door was closed carefully behind Martin and he took a deep breath with closed eyes, because one stupid kid was still left in the Jacuzzi and the boy looked at least as determined as the older man himself. Marty tried the respectfull-but-no-nonsense-strategy:

“Zimmermann …”, he started with his native accent.

“Think again before you say anything, Martin, because you will not get me out of here!”, the younger man interrupted and glared at Martin.

Martin seized him up with tight eyes and thought about his chances to pull Zimmermann out of the tub by his feet and literally kick his naked butt out. 18 years age difference and the actual state of his body where not speaking in his favor so he tried to take the compromise like it was tolerable at least.

“Then you had better brushed your teeth, boy”, Marty said, left his stuff on a nearby hook and climbed into the hot water. Jack seemed content with just sitting upright on his butt tensely, leaning against the side of the little pool with his back and with his hands somewhere underwater to look at Marty suspiciously. Meanwhile the older man sat down, stretched his limps and made himself comfortable in a half lying position just with his head resting on the soft board above the water. Finally warm and almost comfortable again he closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. At least Jack wasn't too chatty in general, knowing when to keep quiet and minding his own business. So Marty relaxed into the hot water, enjoying the steaming pressure of the strong jets from below and the silent noises of the bubbling surface.

After most likely nearly two hours of mutual silent ignorance Marty eventually started to feel acceptable again. The initial pain and general discomfort where gone and the searing ache of his joints had mostly vanished into a pleasant warmth. He started to carefully stretch his muscles, beginning with hands and feet, than following with the greater muscles. After some minutes of deep breathing and slow stretching he pulled himself up into a sitting position, stretched his upper body and yawned loudly. When he opened his eyes, Jack was watching him with a far to joyful smirk.

“Soon, boy, and you will be just like this old guy instead of the hot and fit young stud. Mind my words, son”, he told the other man in french with a superior tone and Jack chuckled.

“I wouldn't argue wisdom of ancient age”, he was still smirking, the little shit, but Marty liked the nerd far to much to seriously bicker, so he just smiled. Jack was a really fine man, he thought and obviously his face did something that made the other man being confused.

“You okay there? Sorry, but I am still not leaving. Why are you looking at me like that?”, he shifted his position in starting discomfort.

“Oh, all is well, don't worry”, Marty settled down more comfortably again. “I was just thinking what a nice guy you are”, he grinned at Jack.

“Uh, thank you? I think you are a nice guy, too”, it sounded uncertain and Marty chuckled.

“I mean, seriously? Here you are, the gorgeous athlete with the most famous butt and one pretty nice face and you are … shy? Come on. You know you löök great and you are a good guy. Sorry, just had to say it eventually”, Marty nudged Jacks shin with his feet, who chuckled but didn't budge.

“Thanks, I guess. But, don't sell yourself short, I mean, you are a great athlete still. And … well, you are not bad to look at, either”, he was mumbling and his face a bit red. Marty chuckled again.

“Don't give yourself a stroke, Zimmermann. Seriously! Thank you. Now relax. Why are you even here?”

“Well”, the younger man settled down a bit and let his view gaze over the water, tracing the pattern with his eyes down,”it was a pretty bad bay and I was alone here at first. But at some point there where all the guys just nudging themselves in until I was squeezed between Tater and Snowy and I guess we all felt pretty stupid. Though none of us wanted to leave either … until you came, obviously …” his eyebrows made something complicated but Martin just grinned and listened with a superior posture.

“I tried to stay alone, but Snowy talked me down and then in came Tater and you know as well as I, he is on this weird diet now and of the size of a car. Some staff guy had to come to mop the water back in here from the hallway, because he ass-bombed into the tub on full speed.”

Marty chuckled at the story, for someone as boring as his Captain he certainly had the brains and was good at telling stories somehow. And he was easily reassured by an interested audience, thawed up eventually and fell into pleasant monologue. Martin liked this side of the young Canadian, because he liked to enjoy others with his knowledge and reception. And he had a nice way of speaking combined with an equally nice voice. It also helped, that lecture-talk-Jack was a very attentive and polite entertainment. So when Jack's first embarrassment vanished into easy chattering, Martin again became aware of the fact, that he liked the younger man quiet a lot and he appreciated the sight of his relaxed Captain in a good mood, so he told Jack. He reacted flustered, as expected, cleared his throat and seemed to search the erratic surface of the water for something to change the subtle topic into, well, safer waters (without leaving the water, of course).

“Thank you … So! Why are you here? Everyone out of home?”, he physically forced the conversation in that direction, looking at the older man in focused expectation.

“Well, no. The little guy is with his mother, as usual during season and most of the stuff around. And I prefer to life alone, so nothing exciting waiting at home, or so I hope”, he explained calmly and stretched his legs out with his feet right to Jack's. “And you didn't really answer my question, you know”, Marty raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh, well, same as your place, I guess. Though I have a nice bathtub there, but I thought, it would be more convenient to stay here, more space and all. And so did everyone else in the end.”

“No sweet somebody waiting? Hm, I guessed you had a girlfriend, or a partner or what do I know”, Martin contemplated a nit surprised.

“Well, I thought, you where married with a kid and all. Although you came just with your son to the barbecue, I think …”, Jack tilted his head to one side.

“Mhm, my private life is a glorious mystery, and so it may stay. But feel free to seduce me to your soul's content”, Marty winked cheekily and Jack snorted with a shake of his head.

“That made a deja-vú of my best friend, he could have said the same, same words as well”, he laughed quietly and Martin had an idea which friend Jack was referring to. But both men just resettled themselves into another lazy position and didn't start a new conversation for a while. After some aimless looking around the room and some more throat-clearing from Jack, the older man prepared for another try to finally get the Jacuzzi all to himself. The captain would surely get home anyway, but a little nudging couldn't hurt.

“You gonna wait until I drown, eh?”, Martin asked casually. But Jack's face went red again and he wriggled around as if he was suddenly uncomfortable. “Uh, actually I would just go right now, but … I'm indecent, I guess …”

Ah, alright, that was unexpected, Martin thought surprised. Sometimes he forgot, that his young Captain was a very private and decent guy himself. Of course he would mention the topic politely than just show off his boner. Hm, Marty got another thought that had somehow sneaked into his sleep-deprived mind. This could either lead in Jack awkward leaving with exasperation or his presence could eventually be promisingly better than the predictable solitude. So the older defense-man ignored the polite response and went for the bolt one.

“Well, let's do something about that, eh Captain?”, he addressed and aimed for the famous charming-middle-aged-Canadian-style and hoped it worked on Jack. It did, at least Jack was just ogling him in surprise instead of freaking out or else.

“Uh, what do you mean?”, Jack asked slowly with a carefully silent voice. And he had a point, what did he even mean? Time for reconnaissance.

“Tah, here you get me, son. I have no idea of gay sex, eh? Need to get some instructions, I guess”, he stayed calm and tried to sound reassuring. Jack looked skeptic and tilted his head to his left lightly.

“I am not letting you fuck me in this pool, because you suddenly think, cock sound's kinda fun, Martin”, he seemed still suspicious at the older man's intend. But despite the serious aspect of the topic, Marty had to let out a laugh.

“Gosh, no no no no, I mean, at my age, at this place? You can't be serious, Captain!”, at least Jack chuckled at his bad jokes.

“But I wouldn't complain about kissing your pretty face, I think, if you don't mind the stubble”, he lifted his chin and scratched through the cropped stands of his strong beard to fool-down the atmosphere again. Jack seemed to think about something for a while.

“Stubble is okay”, he admitted eventually and with a dramatic gesture, Martin lifted one arm off the rest motioned Jack to get near, smiling smugly. Jack just huffed and rolled his eyes, but he came to rest himself again Martin's side anyway. Jack's hair was dry at most and Martin brushed a hand through the thick, black mass. When he felt the younger man leaning more into the contact, he lightly scratched the scalp and Jack stroked one hand over his chest. With his other free hand Martin did the same with Jack, trailing to one nipple and thumping it softly. Jack sighed with closed eyes, melting against the other man. They held each other with one arm each, leaning into each others chest. Martin was amazed at Jack's solid body and how the taunt skin felt soft under his hand. It was foreign and well known at the same time, and Jack was obviously enjoying it. At first he occasionally brushed Martin's thigh with his erection. But when the older man took his jaw in his hand and kissed him, Jack was rubbing his groin against his leg in earnest. The kissing soon got heated and both men where pressed against each other with roaming hands.

Martin got lost into the sensation in general, this was nice, the young athlete so aroused and urgent. He felt amazing to touch and the older man could do that for a while, but his Captain seemed to aim for the peak. Martin took a calculated move and squeezed Jack's bum with a firm grip of his hands. It didn't take long and Jack gasped with his face pressed against Martin's neck until he went calm a bit. He rubbed his chin over the stubble to kiss Martin again.

“I should do something, too?”, it almost sounded like a question again.

“Have something in mind?”, Martin prompted.

“Uhm, I could blow you, if you like, I mean …”

Without much thinking Martin agreed and with enthusiasm as well, the evening was full of surprises, he thought and went through the logistics.

“Well, okay, I get out of here and sit on the edge, but it should really be worth the effort”, Marty smirked and lifted himself out of the water to sit on the sideboard of the tub. Jack admired the flex of his muscles and traced the lines the running water left on the older man's legs. When Martin seemed to be settled down, Jack ran his hands along his thighs with long strokes, his view focused on the prominent erection in front of him. The foreskin was drawn back and exposed the red, swollen head. Jack took the length in one hand and stroked it slowly. Martin sighed and Jack felt bolt enough to take the top of the older man's cock in his mouth. He tongued around the soft edges, when his partner moaned deeply he also sucked hard. Martin continued to voice his pleasure in a slur of his native language that sent goosebumps down Jack's spine. So he sucked and licked until the other man started to get tense. Jack brushed his fingers over the soft skin between the legs and could feel it tightly stretched. With his other hand he gripped the base of Martin's cock and stroked firmly in rhythm with the teasing with his mouth. The older man's breath hiked up, his hips twitching in instinct to reach climax and when he held Jack's shoulders in place with strong hands, Jack swallowed through the shocks of pleasure.  
_ _ _  
“Gentlemen”, the well known voice of Georgia called when Jack and Marty left the locker-room, she was leaning against the wall next to the door, wearing some kind of home-suit and a not very happy expression on her tired face.

“To make long matters short, because I want to get back home, in the future please mind the ever present surveillance camera-system if you want some private time with each other”, she announced and still found two questioning pairs of eyes trained on her. That made her sigh.

“Okay, there is a camera in the Jacuzzi-room, yes? And the security guy on shift called me, because he was forced to watch you two snogging, yes? As I seem to be responsible for this kind of situation I had to get out of bed to wait for you. Now make your walks of shame wherever, because I'm out. Bye idiots”, and she was gone.

For a moment Jack and Martin stood in the hallway silently.

“Do you think, they saved the tape?”, Marty asked with a smirk and Jack stomped off with a violently red face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can be deep, if you like :)


	6. Personal Privacy and Conscious Avoidance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite the ban on smartphones and cameras, you can finally never be sure at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEWARE: Serious Warning! This is detailed adult stuff!  
> Explicit sexual content and description! If you are not  
> into that, don't read it.  
> And here is the promised reminder:
> 
> If you are into some kind of secretive Jack getting to try out some (sexual) kinks you should keep going to the One Time. And let me know how you liked that one, I plan to start a multi-chapter-story based on (dark?)Jack in a sensual content.

Jack Laurent Zimmermann was a private man and always aware of silently being followed or at least recognized. That didn't mean the guys from Samwell where meant to find his hidden laptop and it certainly didn't meant his parents should watch them, but still. He had nothing to hide in his flat of any serious value, so Jack was privately okay throughout. He left his home in Providence free for his friends to roam around at their leisure. He trusted them all to no end, and accepted the shame of 'the inconvenient incident' like the stoic Canadian athlete he liked to be seen as sometime. But Jack Zimmermann was not a fool concerning his privacy, because Providence, just like Samwell, just contained anything that could actually hurt his personal privacy. Bitty might like to tease him about his lack of technical knowledge, but Jack never proved him other wise as well. Even Jack's parents thought like Bitty and Jack never told them something else. As a professional and as an educated adult he was aware of his weaknesses soon and had a selected group of counselors helping him on the 'several-stages-of-privacy' and they where concentrating on discretion at different technical matters. So Jack left it to Bitty to care for his official appearance off the ice and Georgia Martin to manage it on the ice. But in private matters he consulted Holster to tell him how to properly self-teach himself into technical safety.

To make a long side-story short, Jack was very capable to hide some parts of his private life successfully. The overdose told him that keeping up diaries was good, but terrible. Even when he couldn't safe his privacy himself anymore, there where some parts, nobody should be able to find. That didn't mean Jack was a criminal or a pervert, not at all. But there where some parts of his mind, his pictures, his notes, that he wasn't comfortable to share with anybody. Just private thoughts and weird fantasies, letters addressed as somebody else to nobody really, sketches and memories, just himself without any pressure. Knowing other people have seen pictures of his nude body was nothing special, but knowing something personally private would be found made him feel anxious.

Therefor Jack Zimmermann made sure to keep anything suspiciously personal especially good hidden, at least the physical evidence of it's presence. He would think about it, take seemingly unrelated notes in his notebook with a cryptic order and choice of words. If he felt like sketching, he would take to abstract forms and compulsive lines, eventually making and restoring the final result at home in Canada.

But rustling alone without any feedback was nothing for the competitive part of Jack's personality to deal lightly with. He was aware that he took great pleasure in acknowledgment and praise, so much even, it made him feel deeply ashamed. Both because he really enjoyed it so much he felt a shiver at the mere thought about it, what made it so embarrassing. But years of Shitty's mantric monologues eventually seemed to built roots into his unconscious self. He tried to accept the shameful feeling as something, that came not from himself but the society and it's inhumanly expectations stuffed into his brain. There was actually a voice like Shitty's in his brain telling him to fuck off the pressure of random society norms and just go with the flow, man.

So Jack did, in private and without leaving any stupid trails, what made communication and sharing his interests time consuming, but working surprisingly well. Even to himself it sounded rather far fetched to search for somebody, preferably older and male, interested in European history, especially the second world-war, for secluded meetings for talking and fucking. There was a reason he had a professional strategy for his personal privacy, labeled as silly or stupid was a good criteria. He may have stared at the semi-public computer-screen with googly eyes, because he not even found a group of people who met to discuss about a great range of scientific subjects (a friend of one member of the group had published several small books of the notes they left after each 'meeting', hence the internet-presence). He even got a straight response to his request, if there could be a chance to attend the group.

The answer was … interesting to say the least and he needed some time to write a reply. Because he had to write a reply instantly so he could send the message to his safe account and delete it as well. Richard was very polite and had chosen his words carefully. He explained the group, their members and how it worked well for years now. New members where welcome, but chosen carefully, not to exclude, more to make sure, a new addition could be a positive influence on the dynamic So if Jack was interested and free with a certain amount of unlimited time, he could visit Richard the next evening or the week after that. He gave him the code of a post-store-safe for the address with timelines when to get them and hoped, that he liked light music, conversation and food.

With a silent thanks to his lucky stars he struggled to an equally polite and flawless answer despite the short time. Because if he was to attend Richard the next day, he had to tell him and answer his questions. He also had to rearrange his schedule, there was no way he could attend Checking-Practice with Bitty. And Bitty had to take his notes of the afternoon-class, too. But jack was sure, he might even get a pie with a perfect copy in exchange for 6 hours more precious morning-laziness. That left him with two full days until morning-practice with the team. And even that could be changed or even made without him. But Jack forced himself to think rationally, because he had some packing and preparing and planning to do, after finishing a reasonable solid answer. He would not panic and he would not get overly excited. He reminded himself that he was meeting a 56-year-old stranger, a pathologist, at his private home without anybody knowing. Well, that was a matter he had to care for as well, telling Shitty to plan Z, that meant, 'no questions, no worries, I need your car, call you in 12'. But the e-mail was promising, as was the picture, if it was accurate. So Jack send off the reply and the copy, deleted everything and made sure to get through his public-internet-safety-checklist before he left. He had to be somewhere in a few hours.

As it turned out a few hours later Jack found himself somewhere literally. He had done everything on his mental list in preparation. He had showered, shaved, styled his hair and dressed smartly. Shitty was in check and the car was fueled. An overnight-back was sitting on the back-seat with clothes to sleep, to change, a photo-album, toiletries, lube and condoms. In a pocket of the bottom was a note, Shitty made him hide there that said 'If lost call-me-Shitty'. It made Shitty comfortable and Jack understood the system, but when he arrived at the post-office at the earliest time, the content of the safe made the system seem unnecessary. In it Jack found one big envelope closed with a sign. It revealed a letter to him and another, smaller envelope. It was open but with a stamp and Jack's address on one side. The letter in this one contained several information about Richard and the note, that he should send it to someone he trusted, as a form of safety. And he should feel free to call him first, before he did anything at all.

So Jack did after he sat back in the car. It was getting dark so he closed the doors. When the call got through he was greeted by a friendly voice with full name and the note, that this was a voice-mail-recorder. If there was his professional opinion in order, it has to wait. If it is urgent, call my perfectly capable assistant. If there is a crime, don't touch anything, I will call you back. If nothing applies at all, I call back, as well. Good Bye. There was a beep, a second of silence and the call ended suddenly, Jack was confused and amused. He waited a minute until he contemplated to call back. After another minute he decided to wait another minute. When it went over as well and the phone started to feel damp in his hand Jack decided to wait another minute, than call again to leave a message, if that was even possible, he could think about meanwhile. When five minutes of silence went by Jack dialed again, listened for the voice-mail patiently and with the beep he stammered a good evening and rattled down his name to call back, please, thank you.

There was nearly no time to feel weird when an unknown number called back. Jack took the call. He was greeted with enthusiasm and an excuse because of some moron trying to bother him. Jack hummed through the conversation at first, plugging in his headphone, as requested in the e-mail, to connect it with his phone. Richard was talking at first, introducing himself properly and explaining his safety-strategy. He explained the need of that first for his person and hoped, Jack was okay. So Jack send the letter with the data to Shitty, got back into the car and followed Richard's instructions carefully. The older man seemed to rummage through his flat, mainly the kitchen and told Jack the exact route to his house. After a lot of explaining of expectations and ambitions, consent and adult responsibility Richard ended his self called introduction-speech with a generous apology for his excessive behavior. Though if Jack still wanted to attend the meetings, he might get kind of used to it. Jack chuckled and after a turn into an open road Richard asked if everything was still all right. The traffic was light, but Jack rarely drove, told Richard so and asked, if it was okay if he could concentrate on driving first, if that wasn't to far off, and talk later in personal? He would listen though, if Richard would like to tell more about himself, please. The older man made a humming sound and Jack tried to imagine his smile. Jack admired his politeness, which made the younger man forcing his concentration on the road and the car instead of the chill that ran over his back at the praise.

So Jack found himself somewhere in a car to who-knows-where. But the navigation-system knew, another safety-point, Richard talked about his work and about the other members until Jack drove slowly into a small street of a very small town. He parked his car in-front of an older building in great condition just as Richard appeared at the front-door to point Jack to a place for the car behind a huge hedge. Richard walked across the pebbled ground, closed an iron gate and joined Jack at the back of the car.

Both men acknowledged each other, Richard smiled reassuringly and Jack replied slowly while holding in a breath. The older man beamed at him: “Hello Jack, I am happy you really came!”, it sounded to Jack like a surprise more than a state of the fact. “Yes, thank you”, Jack smiled again and Richard smirked with joy. “You are very welcome, my handsome friend. I hope you will enjoy to be my guest?”, that didn't as much sound as a question than an actual state of a fact. “Well, I'm really looking forward certainly”, Jack thanked Bitty's and Lardo's possession of sappy-daily-soaps, they eventually paid off for all the fatal brain-damage at least. That was because Richard actually chuckled with delighted fondness at Jack's answer, the younger man felt oddly charmed by that kind of affection for his person. And his ability to breath properly again after the first face-to-face-shock-moment was nice as well. He felt more and more at ease with Richard and possible prospects of the evening. There was excitement talking place instead of panic when Richard gestured him to get into the house first and he finally entered the classic brickstone-building.

Jack had expected some kind of tasteful interior, though visiting a new home was always surprising. Everything was held in decent colors and the wall where covered with various kinds of art, framed pictures and exhibits. Richard took the bag and placed it onto a small wooden box under the wardrobe. Then he took Jacks coat and hung it next to several others. The younger man took off his shoes, Richard took them as well and handed him soft shoes and a pair of woolen socks. Jack used the hint and asked for the bathroom to freshen up. Richard showed him the way and mentioned the nearby kitchen as his place to be found. The bathroom was nice and well stocked, so Jack got rid of his socks, took off his trousers and pants as well and used the bidet to wash his feet and his genitals. He definitely felt better after cleaning himself a bit and changing into clean, comfortable clothes. With a view into the mirror, he decided to just wear his button-up sleeve, maybe the fitting cardigan he brought, but nothing complicated underneath. He took his time to clean his armpits and use some deodorant before he dressed completely, brushed his teeth and left the bathroom with a final casting look at the mirror. Leaving the dirty laundry in his bag he went to the kitchen with excitement.

Jack felt almost comfortable, the interior of what he had seen yet matched the following rooms. Richard was inviting him to join him at the high island with already set meals. Jack didn't mind Cuban music when the older man asked and went to the island with soft sounds filling the room. He watched Richard silently when he approached him with a friendly smile. He placed his hands gently on Jack's shoulders, smiling even more.

“I'm really happy to have you here, thank you for coming!”, he squeezed his hands lightly and Jack smiled back.

“And I have to admit it at first, you are a very fine and handsome young man, as far as I can tell. Please don't change”, he brushed his thumbs over Jack's skin softly. With a silent laugh he said a polite thank you and reached for the other man's waist with a solid grip.

“You are amazingly young and athletic, actually. But you are not just building muscles. More like conditioning, not just marathon. And definitely not just sitting around and doing research only either …”, Richard observed concentrated and was touching several parts of Jack's body as if searching for clues. Jack was impressed, all nervousness gone, he even lifted his arms a bit when Richard was measuring the size of his rib-cage with his hands.

“I, uh, actually I am an athlete. Professional athlete, I mean, making a living with Ice-Hockey, you know …”, he trailed off into silence and the older man placed his hands back on the other man's shoulders, looking at him thoughtful.

“No, I didn't know, actually. I didn't google you, even if I was tempted to check your identity and your scientific curriculum. But I wanted to get to know you without that, though I gave you my homepage and all because safety is important.” Jack nodded along and placed his own hands back on Richard's waist. “So is consent, because, I still have to admit, you are amazing and I would like to kiss you, if that is okay for you.”

“Well …”, Jack sighed and searched for the right words. “I would like that, but this time I have to admit, if we start kissing now, the food will get cold. Seems like a shame for me …”, he was hungry and it smelled great. Richard seemed genuinely surprised and left Jack to one of the chairs, gesturing his guest to take a seat as well.

“I mean, it is really okay, though I might get … easily distracted by kissing, in general, I mean”, he trailed off awkwardly, but Richard just nodded and moved on.

They settled down, wished each other a good meal and started to eat in silence. It also tasted great, Jack was just a big guy who liked a good chunk of meat now and then. Steak and potatoes, if the Canadian could eat like he wanted, that would be a regular dish. His father had gotten the hang on torte after he retired and it forced him to keep himself in good shape, because he was a fancy guy who wanted to look sharp next to his beautiful wife. Jack was looking forward curiously to the time of non-strict-diets and what it might do to his system while eating his meal with gusto.

“I hope you like the dish enough to excuse the lack of desert. I'm afraid age and working in closed quarters don't math well with decadent meals”, he smirked.

“Huh, that's alright, and this is amazing, by the way, thank you! I get more than enough dessert at home. One of my Haus-mates has a passion for pie. We even got him a new oven, Betsy the second. So … lots of pie all the time, no dessert is okay”.  
  
“Okay, I can't beat the culinary pleasures of home-made baking, of course, but if the need arises anyway, there can be some fine ice-cream be found in the freezer. Don't open the upper container, mind you”.

Jack smiled and finished his meal silently. Before he could feel strange, Richard was ready as well.

“If you like, I could open a nice red whine we can settle down with on the couch so you can tell me, what get's you distracted as well?”, he offered with a playfully questioning tone. Jack felt sated and content, but he also felt the need to address certain things at first.

“I would like that, and get to know you as well. But … It's weird maybe, but I think I should mention it before we do … anything. Because I have a severe anxiety-issue. I am under medical observation and take medication, but … I think you should know”, he waited for Richard to response somehow.

“That's okay with me”, he started to get a bottle of whine and some equipment to open it. “Actually it is very okay. I have major knowledge about the subject, but I admit, I am not a professional psychiatrist. If you like to tell me about it, I would like to listen. But if you would rather not, just tell me what triggers an attack, if you can say, just so I know what to look out for, yes?”, Jack nodded along.

“Stress, I mean, an attack is usually caused by stress, when I get distracted while focusing on something (on hockey, he thought for himself) and that can throw me off. But all is well recently, no worries.”

“So you know dealing-techniques, I assume, and all important contacts are easily found on your phone?”, Richard asked and Jack nodded with intent.

“Well, thank you for the information. I intent to make your visit as pleasant as possible anyway, so …”, he offered Jack a big glass of red whine, ”I have a guest-room ready, you can decide to sleep here now or later. Though I would suggest not to combine your medication with alcohol and driving.” Jack took the glass and smelled at it's content. The red liquid smelled strong and fruity.

“I won't drink much anyway, but I wouldn't drink and drive as well. So … I brought some stuff for staying overnight in advance …”, he took a hesitant sip of the whine.

“I have never tasted whine like this, I can't even explain …”, Richard laughed at his impressed face, took his own glass and guided Jack to the sitting-room onto a very plush and comfortable couch.

“Well, you should see where it comes from sometime …”, the older man started to explain and Jack settled down into the conversation, admiring the room, the whine and listening with interest.

Soon Jack found himself lounge lazily on the big couch, his glass of whine empty and replaced with some fruity fuzzy water. He was lying back against the rest, his legs spread relaxed and Richard kept stroking over his thigh while he talked about his latest task. He felt the drowning affects of the whine, took one last sip of his cold drink, placed it on the nearby table and settled back to the former kissing. The sure touching, the soft cushions, the languid kissing, the silent music, Jack felt his mind buzzing off slowly. Richard was stroking his erection trough the thick fabric of his jeans with just the right pressure and Jack was glad, he was wearing this pair of jeans in foresight of a lot of sitting around. The generous space in his lab certainly paid off with stimulating friction instead of cutting tightness. Richard felt amazing, solid and strong, but pleasantly comforting. Eventually the older started to tease the edged of Jack's button-up out of his trousers. The younger man took the chance, stood up and undressed effectively with only his shorts left. Straddling Richard's thigh with his own Jack pressed his body into him, kissing him deeply. Eventually Jack was kneeling over Richard's lap, undressing him slowly as well. The other man took some time to mouth Jack's erection through the thin fabric of his briefs, stroking his butt and his balls with his hands. When Richard finally pulled the waistband down a bit to swallow him down with a firm suck, Jack gasped through the sudden sensation, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He moved himself into a sitting position, angling his cock sharply into the other man's mouth. He rested one hand on Richard's shoulder and placed the other hand on his head lightly. He got another pointed suck, a good hold of the base of it and one carefully wondering hand aiming for his whole.

The older man was attentive and certain in his ambitions, testing out what happened, deepening the experience through perfecting the technique and lingering in the pleasure without rushing. There was not much capacity in his brain available for serious thinking and Jack focused his conscious mind to get lost into the sensation his body seemed to enjoy. His partner was an assuring presence, teasing the sensitive spots of his body, both with a lot of knowledge and as much gusto. Jack appreciated the unhurried exploring and occasional overwhelmed feeling of coming soon, small breaks for water or focusing or rearranging included. It was heady, Jack felt warm and content, kneeling over the older man's lap with strong arms holding him in place with firm pressure. Richard was sucking in earnest, stroking the base with his hand in rhythm and holding the scrotum with the other. Jack closed his eyes again and breathed through the warm, wet suction. One hand still one the other man's shoulder, now holding it more surely, Jack placed his other hand at the back of Richard's head, changing the angle lightly. He could feel the head of his cock rubbing against the ripped cavern of Richard's mouth and his mind went blank at all. He warned Richard, because that was his last conscious thought, not to rut into the heat mindlessly and coming recklessly. With another thing of his mouth and holding Jack down with both hands over his hips, the older man made a pointed effort and Jack got it. He pressed his stomach against Richard's face and stopped fighting the instinctive thrusting flex of his pelvis. Some short movements through the hot friction and Jack pulled his cock out, breathing hard. He sat down heavily into the other man's lap, leaning his back against Richard's thighs with his head thrown back. He came over Richard's still half clothed chest, moaning deeply with closed eyes. The older man was taking hold of his erection and stroked him through the shocks of his climax, slow and strong until Jack shifted back on the couch to Richard's side to calm down more.

After several minutes, Jack got his wits back and focused on the gentle carding through his hair and the solid presence holding him firmly. He felt content and just nice.

“I think, that was nice. What do you think?”, Richard asked silently and Jack lifted himself up a bit to look at him.

Part 2

The next time Jack attended to visit was with Richard introducing to the group, which was the initial idea anyway. Jack had stayed two nights and left Richard's house early on the third day. The older man was already gone, as expected and Jack was soon ready to head back to Samwell. He left the property and followed the first instruction of his navigation-system. He had to turn the car to the side of the road, because the device still took it's time to calculate the route. Jack waited and looked out of the car into nowhere. But on the other side of the road there was sitting a certain kind of car that caught his attention. It was a German brand and maybe that was the only reason it seemed strangely familiar to him. The navi announced to start the journey and Jack pulled the car back to the road without thinking about it anymore.

Some weeks, countless E-Mails with Richard and other members of the meeting, Jack stood lightly lost on a mowned out parking place in the middle of a big, green field. Some lost trees and bushes stood around, it was dark and warm, a silent, moonless night. In the distant Jack could make out the sounds of cars rushing along over the street he had left earlier. When the traffic died down, insects and other small animals could be heard from somewhere out of the darkness. There wasn't even wind and it was pleasantly mild for late summer, Jack frowned and listened for sounds.

Eventually he could hear footsteps, regular patterns of boots crushing pebbled ground. It sounded like a person walking over some kind of stone-covered path, he couldn't make out yet, Jack thought, and concentrated on the general direktion of the sound. When it became louder, never changing the steady pace, the weak light of a hand-lamp leaked through the thick bushes in-front of him. Soon he could make out a sturdy silhuette approaching over a littered way on the other side of the green vegeation. There also was a whole Jack hadn't catched yet and when the light hit his legs, he was greeted with a German Hallo. A man around 50, smaller than him with a round face and thin, blond hair smiled at him.

“Bonjour”, Jack responded carefully, “I … am I lost?” What a stupid question, but the other man chuckled.

“Yes, we thought so. It's hard to find at night, so I got out to look for you. The others left know the way”, he still smiled friendly and Jack found to like it.

“I am Peter, by the way. Are you ready?”, Peter asked and waved Jack to follow his lead. After a minute of silent walking they approached at big, flat building and went around to the other side of it. Jack couldn't get much of it, but the dimly lit porch they reached after climbing several steps. The small light next to the front-door caused distinct shadows over the porch and Jack could see a thick wall of leaf covering the wooden pattern of fenced walls like a camouflage tent for the entrance. Jack imagined it during the day, when the sun would filter through the leafs, creating a shadowy place to cover from the heat and possible views. Soon he was standing inside a building that reminded him of an Irish-pub or something. The music was life and cheery, a bar was centered in the big, narrow room and everybody was sitting around engaged in conversation. Jack admired the interior while he went to find a place to leave his coat, Peter had vanished somewhere. Trough several hallways other secluded, half open areas could be seen, parted by the visible wooden structure of the house. The thick, black wooden frames of the house where combined with a soft yellow on the rest of the walls and between them. The sitting furniture was mixed, but in a certain style and it seemed, like it moved around as needed. Guests sat at the bar on taller chairs of varying angles and on narrow seats at the tables.

The rage of age was different, though Jack noticed a certain lack of women and a distinct under-representation of guys his age. But that was to be expected, Jack was even relieved, because that was one big reason he was here at all. Elder, educated, mostly gay and definitely ambiguous at least in a pleasant environment without pressure, but good talk at least, Jack had been promised. And if the interaction with Richard was anything to go by, he would at least meet those guys he already exchanged E-Mails with. He was especially looking forward to a pilot from Europe who had promised to come.

But for the time being Jack was content to sit at the bar, nursing a great, German beer and observing his surroundings. When he met someones view, he was greeted with a friendly nod and not bothered even further. Jack was sure, he could attend into one of the conversations, if he wanted, but he felt okay where he was and waited, if some familiar face would turn up, before thinking about getting up to search or something.

The music was interesting, he had to admit and with his next beer he got a brochure of the band along with lyrics and translations. He soon got occupied in listening and reading along, because the foreign language and the amazing lyrics caught him. That was something for Lardo, he thought, when he mentioned an approach out of the corner of his eye. He was greeted with a solid hug by Richard and they soon fell into pleasant talk. At some point Peter returned and stood next to them silently. Richard seemed to know what for, took the brochure from Jack's hand to store it away for him and promised not a long wait, hugging him shortly, leaving with a light peck on the cheek. They went just a few steps aside and talked in German to each other with serious faces, so Jack watched around the room again.

Jack mentioned someone entering the room from outside and lurking around just as awkwardly next to the wardrobe like he had most likely done before. A smallish guy with a sharp featured face had arrived. He seemed very lost, standing around nervously, drowning in a dark-grey hoodie and a black leather pilot's jacket. The most remarkable feature though was his shocking ginger hair. It suited his appearance and the sharp green, almost almond-shaped eyes did their thing, too.

“Martin?”, Jack called out and hoped he wouldn't draw to much attention. But only the strangely beautiful, small guy turned to look at him.

“Oh, Jack?”, he approached Jack with certain steps and a bright smile. Jack noticed his freckled skin and the dimples on his cheeks.

“Yes, that's me, hello”, Jack stood up and hugged the smaller pilot. He felt surprisingly strong and the hug was tight as well. Before the athlete could tease him, he was asked to get a chair, please and left for the wardrobe for a sec. The sturdy bartender lifted a chair over the board and Jack just took it without wondering to much. Martin was back soon and got an already set up drink and asked politely for a shot and a sandwich.

They started to follow a conversation they had via E-Mail and while Martin was talking and eating, he told Jack about some of his latest travels and the new book on military aircraft he had found. Martin evem took the effort to scan the whole book for Jack to send him and the younger man couldn't bring it over his heart to tell the excited pilot he already owned a new copy since they first had talked, or written, about it. He liked him a lot even via E-Mail. They had exchanged pictures at some point and did not only talk about historic aviation all the time. Both had the same certain approach in mind and Jack was thrilled, when Richard had told him about Martin and setting them into contact. Jack was intrigued by the unusual features of the British Ginger. He had strong, calloused but well cared for hands and was generally pretty built. A long face with a strong jaw, a hard defined nose and sharp cheekbones contrasted to his unearthly eyes and the amazingly red hair. It was cut short at his neck but it curled into a tuft of red strands on his head, falling over his forehead in dramatic loops. Martin didn't articulate much with his body, but he held a force look on his companion and talked with expertise in a deep, calm voice. Exotic was the first word Jack thought of when he listened intently, Martin had an exotic appearance and it was stunning. The topic went on, they slowly scooted closer to each other and Jack wondered, if they could get one of the more private seats of the house and looked around to search for Richard and Peter. Both where still standing in the corner seemingly in deep thought.

“Something seems to be off, doesn't it?”, Martin said more than a fact. “Should we wait longer, or are we maybe not even waiting?”, Jack looked a little lost at the smaller man. “Well, someone has to do something, just wait a second, please?”, he stepped over to the elder men. Both greeted him friendly, excusing their mysterious huddling and the rest Jack didn't get. Eventually Martin came back and told him to follow if he didn't mind a place less on display. Jack didn't mind, gave Martin his drink (and a plate with another sandwich), took his own glass and left the bar down a small hallway to a secluded nook. Or some kind of half hidden corner with love-seats, shutting out audience by the big wooden blocks of the building. It was lit sparsely, but with candles available. The music from the main room could still be heart and sometimes a crowd of laughter or shouting went through. Jack and Martin sat down on a plush green couch behind a round table and other seats. They talked and ordered new drinks sometime later, slowly exploring each others bodies with roaming hands over their tightly wrapped around bodies.

The small ginger felt amazing and Jack was surprised again by his weight and strength. He knew Martin had issues with insecurity and tended to be obsessive, they had talked about their 'mental luggage', as Martin called it, during their deeper introductions about their lives at some point. So Jack didn't point out the seemingly constant eating or the initially hard drinking. It certainly helped to talk with Martin over their mutual experiences of their mental states, but he wasn't here to get the Freud and neither was Martin. The older man knew about the addiction, the overdose, the anxiety and hockey. The Canadian knew about Martin's struggle with becoming a pilot and not just the fight with money through a removal-service. The weight of demanding exploit of his work, high expectations and his lingering, stressed induced phases of depression and peaks of obsessive behavior. Jack admired the intelligent Britain for his determination to do what he wanted most. He understood his passion as well as the consequences of his mental state. It was easy for him to just accept Martin and be thankful to call him his friend. The young was glad as well and Jack couldn't help but mention, that there was also a permanent shadow of relief. As if the Ginger went silent for a moment and praised his lucky stars for his happy faith. Both men shared the same feeling about their lives so far that they both approved of the development so far without being arrogant. At least they didn't fail or die yet and both where pleased with their working goals so far. Their shared respect for polite interaction helped a lot over awkward situations with teasing and friendly bickering each other. Jack was certain, he wasn't a complete idiot, but the lightly older pilot from Europe was sharp. He thought fast and complex, responding immediately and speaking with intent. Beyond aviation he knew a lot, or at least tried to knew a lot. Like the eating he had to spike up on trivial knowledge now, that he had money to eat properly and time to do something different than learning the manual by word to eventually get his license.

So Jack just snatched a piece of whatever Martin had ordered to nibble on and watched the effect the booze had on his system. The Airline-Captain still talked professionally and didn't even slur a bit. But his focus lost some edges of sharpness, his cheekbones where blushed and he was always touching Jack somewhere. They both where here for the same reasons and these didn't contain heavy introspection and analysis. So Jack guided Martin to sit across his lap and kissed him hard. The smaller man was so strong and tense, Jack started to nudge him a bit for some silly wrestling break. But Martin held him tight and told him not to with a serious face. Jack apologized and kissed him again instead. They knew each other, but this was new to both, too. So small lapses didn't harm to much.

When both men got lost in the sensation their startled at a fierce knock on wood next to them and separated in a swift motion, sitting next to each other. Peter walked around the corner with another guest and Richard was arriving as well, lightly out of breath.

“Oh, are we interrupting things?”, he mocked and smirked at the pair on the couch.

“You should have seen them when we came in, I mean, look at them _now_!”, Peter chuckled with amusement and gestured with both hands at Jack and Martin. Another round of laughs and all where set in the corner as well. A waiter brought new drinks for everyone and Jack noticed, that Peter seemed somehow more relaxed.

“Things seem to be worked out, don't they?”, Martin asked silently, obviously mentioning the same and drawing his own conclusions.

“Okay, that's good”, at least he wasn't expected to talk smart and the other man got that he had no idea. So they both turned to attend the conversation of the room.

“This polite Canadian gentleman is Jack Zimmermann, Schulze. And this, my friend, is Klaus Schulz, an old friend of mine I wanted to introduce before the evening gets lost, because we are waiting for a certain guest and have to leave on call, so”, Richard explained and Jack nodded at the man with the sharp nose in front of him. He was about Martin's height, Jack guessed and his skin held a bronze-nuance he couldn't quite catch. His well known accent in perfect English sounded sure and certain, Jack liked the individual tongue and smiled politely to introduce himself after the older man had finished. He found him smiling pleased and friendly, listening to Jack and starting to question him about his degree. Klaus, or Schulze, was a gardening architect and worked from his home office with his staff, family nearby. Before Jack could say anything else, someone called from the main room, Richard, Peter and Klaus excused themselves and left the two younger man alone again.

“Well, this is quite a rush …”, Jack interrupted Martin by hauling him onto his lap with some effort. Both chuckled behind their breaths and Jack tucked playfully at Martin's waistband. Through kissing and mouthing at each other Martin wriggled his trousers down his thighs with his boxers. Jack scooted his lower body down the couch, rucking his own clothes barely out of the way enough to reveal his half-hard cock. He was lying nearly flat on his back, feet off the couch on the ground. Martin kept kissing him and rubbed his balls over Jack's exposed foreskin. When he lifted his upper body up to reach for his back Jack took a few strong pulls of his cock while enjoying the prospect of quick, uncomplicated fucking. Martin lifted his pelvis over Jack's crotch, reached behind him again, took hold of Jack's erection and sank down on it. With a steady move of his pelvis he groaned through gritted teeth until he was literally balls deep filled with Jack's dick in one, surprising motion.

“I … am I … your first today?”, Jack huffed and Martin nodded.

“There is never to much lubrication … in advance …”, Martin answered, voice strained through the initial discomfort.

When he had adjusted to the sensation after a short while of deep breathing, Jack was in no better state. The sudden penetration without preparation had caught him unexpected and he gasped through the incredible hot and wet, forcefully tight push against strong muscles. With a few arrangements Martin was soon riding Jack in earnest, lifting his lean lower body up and down on Jack's cock fast and hard. Jack pushed back into the clenching heat wetness in time and angled his thrusts to brush the other man's prostate bluntly. Martin moaned and suddenly Jack felt the muscles of his rectum convulse in strong waves. The sheer force of pleasure hit his system and he came with a sharp cry and moaned through his climax.

Martin lifted his hips and Jack's deflating erection fell between his legs. The older man still breathed through the aftershocks and Jack could feel warm wetness falling on his crotch and the couch. With a final deep breath Martin stood up to his feet and pulled his clothes back into place. He reached for a dispenser of tissues and offered Jack a few. Jack huffed, lifted himself up as well and dried the mess of lube and body fluids on his dick. After a satisfying try to clean the couch and disposing the tissues, they decided to finish their drinks, join the crowd and leave deep in the night to Martin's hotel-room.

So Jack teased Martin of his height and Martin told him to eat more protein when they approached the bar some time later. The small podium for the band was empty with deserted chairs and instrument, the musicians where drinking at the bar. Richard and Peter talked to the band and Klaus seemed to just watch their interaction. When he saw Jack and Martin coming into the room, he looked up and smiled at the Canadian.

“I am so sorry, Jack, but I already have to leave you. Watch out, be safe, see you later”, and he rushed off.

“Got your back”, Jack called after him and went to the empty chair next to Klaus at the bar. Eventually Richard someone tapped on Schulzes shoulder, Klaus checked his watch and sighed.

“I have to go, need to be home early tomorrow morning”, he smiled at him and it seemed sad, he started to take on a scarf and a coat the stranger offered him. Jack checked his watch as well and was surprised how late it was. He had arrived around 8 p.m. And now it was short after midnight. He frowned, kind of sad, too, because Klaus was amazing company. They had literally talked for hours, Klaus half sitting on Jack's lap, holding each other loosely.

“I will get in touch with you, let's meet for dinner here, okay?”, Klaus had cupped Jack's face with both hands and stood close between the taller man's lightly angled knees. It felt familiar to Jack when he placed his own hands in the smaller man's waist. They kissed shortly and Klaus went with a smile and a good-bye.

Jack found that his drink was replaced by a new one and he took some of the cold, golden brew. He should certainly get the brand for Shitty, nothing better than German beer, he had to admit, because it tasted just great. He looked around aimlessly and thought about Klaus, certainly disappointed about the loss of his company. He was intelligent, educated and Jack enjoyed the polite closeness. How much they had to drink he couldn't recount, but he had always found a glass of fresh water on his plate, so he felt pleasantly buzzed and in contently good mood. He enjoyed the beer and watched the people around the bar. Some where just drinking, one guy was writing in a notebook, another took notes as well while his companion explained something and so on. Jack felt comfortable and secure, not once had he felt as if staggering eyes where trained on him or Klaus or both of them discreetly making-out and talking all the time. Jack had no real idea who was responsible for the planning or the group in general or even security. But he was assured of his privacy by Richard often enough and Jack would certainly vote for that. No voyeuristic stares, no disapproving glances, no gossiping snickers, it was just as if the building was an area where polite approval and not minding other business too visible was established and practiced. Jack liked that a lot and he felt totally at ease.

With no rush he finished his drink and started to think about using the bathroom, when Martin appeared on the still deserted chair next to him.

“Hey”, he greeted in a visible good mood and a hazy gaze. His face was flushed and his accurate hairstyle messed up. He instantly got a beer as well.

“At this side I get beer and water only, you see”, he announced as if that was an explanation and started to drink.

“Uh …”, Jack was not prepared for anything at the moment.

“Hm”, Martin placed his half empty glass on the counter, “you wanna watch me get fucked under the stall?”, his accent was hilarious and his offer was promising, so Jack agreed with a chuckle. The other man smiled broadly and the smirk reached to his eyes. His forehead was covered with deep lines of thought that made him look as old as he actually was or even older. Jack saw why he let his hair grow longer, without the signs of his soul printed on his skin, it was distinctly harder to guess his age. He looked much younger, but the strong lines of his face where far too masculine for a young man.

“Do you like it so far? Have a good time? You are new, I should ask you that to show my superior knowledge”, he mimicked some snotty accent and both men laughed.

“Yes, it's kinda great actually. This place is amazing and I like the atmosphere. Everyone was great so far”, Jack thought of Klaus and hoped Martin wouldn't ask further questions. But the older man just drained his drink.

“You will love this, under the stalls, like … in a bad movie or something. It's … just follow me, Jack”, so the younger man nodded, took a last drink of his half full glass and trailed behind Martin to the bathrooms.

As expected, the facilities where decorated tastefully and absolutely clean. But the room was astonishingly spacious and multi-edged. The stalls where designed differently as well and the more they went, the more intriguing the lightning got. Martin headed to an arrangement of stalls, entering the biggest one on the left side of the far end. Martin closed the door, it reached up until the ceiling, but the gap over the ground was indeed unusually big.

“What do you wanna do first?”, Martin asked and Jack looked around to take in the interior. There where thick pieces of carpet stocked into a wooden paper-holder in the corner and the wall was covered with covered wholes of different size and position. But Jack looked back at Martin and shrugged his shoulders with a confused expression on his face.

“No problem, just tag along then, make yourself at home”, he pulled his trousers and brief down to his ankles and poured some lubrication into one hand out of a nearby dispenser. Spreading his legs he slicked up his whole and Jack heard movement outside of the stall. The wall to the next stall reached to the ground and the distinct light made the attending wall pointedly covered in shadow. Jack snatched some pieces of carpet, pulled his own trousers down a bit and watched Martin. The smaller man had placed his jacket on a hook and had arranged some carpet as well to put his knees on.

“Brilliant idea, isn't it? I suggested it last time”, Martin grinned like a fool but Jack to give him credit with a thumbs-up and an impressed face. The younger man snorted, shook his head and settled down on the floor. Jack admired his flexibility, because he could spread his legs wide enough to put his arse right through the gap under the stall easily. Jack imagined the sight in the sparsely lit hallway, Martins muscular ass spread wide, the pink whole wet and invitingly open. It didn't take long and some mumbling combined with a certain shuffling could be heard. Martin wriggled his butt and Jack could make out a hand reaching out for it. The stranger fingered the smaller man and Jack could see the shadowy outline of the guys lower body. While he fucked Martin with one hand, he wanked furiously and muffled panting could be heard. When the unknown guy came on the tiled floor with a short series of grunts and thick bursts of cum that landed on the ground with a wet sound, Jack wriggled his half-hard erection out of his pants. He stroked himself lazily, completely caught of the act and buzzing through the experience.

When the first man left, another one replaced him in a different attempt. He crouched close to the gap, gripped the underside of the wall with both hands and swiftly pulled his lower body mostly through it. His bare knees reached through first until a prominent erection appeared, too from under the dark hall. The guy seemed to be ready, mumbling something Jack couldn't catch, but that set Martin into motion. With practiced easy he lifted his back up and nudged his hole against the hard cock. The other guy got hold of one butt-cheek and he teased the pink opening with the thumb. With his other hand he guided his cock and aimed for penetration. Martin scooted back closer to the gab and when the tip of his cock pushed in the stranger took hold of Martin's hips. He pulled him closer against against his laps and forced himself deep into the smaller man's body. Without hesitation he started to fuck Martin's arse in earnest, thrusting hard until the tilt fast and pulling him back with a strong hold. It was hot and filthy, watching his friend getting breed a random stranger and Jack wondered if Martin kept track of everything.

Martin was just adjusting himself steadily into the act, bouncing with the motion and rolling his hips a bit to increase the angle. The other guy kept fucking him and holding him in place, pulling stronger when Martin shifted over the floor. Jack's point of view was perfect, he could see in detail how the stranger's big, red swollen erection pushed into the pliant opening. Skin hitting against another and the wet sounds of movement sounded filthy. The guy went urgent and pulled Martin's lower body far under the stall, forcing him to spread his legs even wider, offering an even deeper angle and pressing himself into the pounding from below. The stranger was grunting, his thrusts got erratic up until a certain point. With a final hard push he let go of Martin's waist to fist his erection. Martin settled down again, holding his bared opening still visible under the stall when the guy came over his butt. He left as fast as he appeared and Martin stretched a bit on the ground.

Meanwhile Jack had opened his shirt and stroked his leaking cock, fascinated by the show. Soon later another guy wriggled his unclothed lower body through the gap and Jack had to swallow down a lump in his throat. The guy was huge, enormous if so to say, it was surreal. Jack searched for hints of an extension, but the light was good enough and he stared at the generously leaking erection. Martin hummed in approval and turned around a bit. At some point he had gotten the dispenser of lubricant down next to him and was now pouring a good amount of it into his hands. He then took hold of the massive cock with with them and stroked the length with a firm grip. From under the stall a deep, rumbling moan could be heard and Jack wondered how the rest of the guy looked like. Martin was fisting his erection with visible effort, slicking it up and causing thick pours of pre-come leaking out of the pronounced head. The guy grunted again occasionally and bucked his hips into the tight grip until Martin let go of it to turn around again. The visible display of his back made the stranger hum and his cock twitched with a new spurt of thick liquid running down the length. He held it down a bit at the basement and Jack could swear it looked like from a small horse maybe. After some logistics Martin was fucked hard again and shouted at the sensation. At first the other guy moved slowly, obviously admiring the view. When he pulled his cock back, the thin skin of the stretched whole closed deftly around the girth. But shortly the thrusting got harder and Martin cried out with each move. Jack watched the surreal big cock and gasped through the filthy wet, squelching farts the fucking caused the loose whole to make. At one point the movement stopped and the stranger crouched away into the darkness, mindlessly pulling his massive cock out back by the movements. It gracelessly smoothed out of Martin's red swollen hole with a slurping, soggy sound and a trail of cum when it vanished out of sight. Jack observed the loose clenching of the smaller man's entrance and when two amounts of cum leaked out of it in long, white drops on the ground, it didn't sound like he was the only person present coming.

Jack recovered slowly from the exhaustion and crouching on the floor was hurting his back. He struggled to get some toilet-paper and watched Martin composing himself. The young Ginger had gotten away from the wall and caught his breath still on all fours. He asked Jack to pass him some paper, the Canadian did so politely and they both cleaned each other up. With a push Martin lifted himself up on shaking legs. Jack didn't feel anything better, especially with soaked pants, so he stood up to stand next to the smaller man. Martin was still out of breath, but he huffed a laugh at Jack and rolled his eyes up dramatically. His face was flushed red, his eyes dazed and he wasn't really steady on his feet still. Not that Jack was in any better shape, sticky cock still out of his clingy pants and all. But they just made themselves presentable and left the stall for washing-up. There was nobody else left anywhere and soon Martin was chatting excitedly again.

“Have you even met all the others yet?”, Martin asked Jack's reflection in the mirror when they stood at two sinks next to each other.

“I … don't know?”, Jack washed his face while Martin roamed through a small box of toiletries to tame his furious curls. The cold water helped, so did the small container of deodorant Martin offered him and complimented the well equipped facilities. He already seemed much more alert again, talking about his plans to introduce Jack properly and stock up on drinks'n'food. Jack nodded along, it sounded like a good idea before eventually leaving for Martin's hotel-room later. He also decided to add some caffeine to his system, though he didn't feel especially tired yet. But he was determined to not let this evening go to waste and different dehydration seemed plausible.

Within minutes Jack and Martin joined the main room and meandered through different groups and topics. It became a blur of new faces, exchanging information and catching up and Jack lost track of time again. By dawn the bar got notably deserted so Jack and Martin decided to say their good-byes and head off to get some rest. It was usually a 30 minute distance by foot, but they almost took an hour of fooling around the way until they finally reached the small village with the aforementioned hotel.

Jack was looking forward to a mutual struggle in an incredible small shower-stall, sleeping deep into the morning in a small hotel-bed with Martin and paying for both their expenses behind his back with glee, of course.

Part 3

The logistics of college, hockey and matters of his personal privacy went smoothly so far that Jack kept reminding himself not to get sloppy, but feeling increasingly well with his new company. As promised Klaus contacted him and they managed to meet for lunch on a regular basis. Jack also attended almost all the semi-public meetings of the group, enjoying the nice atmosphere and making several good friends over the time. While still on good terms with Richard, Jack found himself drawn to the Schulze until he had to admit, that it was seriously falling for the older man. The sentiment was mutual and they spend long evenings getting closer. Of course Jack knew this was fruitless, but he allowed the delicate bubble to stay as long as it was there, enjoying the company and affection Schulze shared with him.

Sometimes it was hard and the knowledge of the inevitable end was clouding the edges of the little time they had together. But Schulze had a good hand in taking Jack out of dark moods with gentle, but certain demanding ease. It took a while, but in the end Jack could relax and enjoy their company again.

So they met and attended the general meetings discreetly and with the silent general knowledge of them being totally besotted with each other left alone in peace. They dates for lunch or dinner where casual in public times of the bar and Jack started to take his glasses with him, because Klaus liked to show him sketches and details of his work. Jack also started to prepare for their dates and brought with him albums and pictures of his photography class. They talked surprisingly seldom about hockey. They did, but less than Jack thought and it didn't bother him at all. Schulze was an amazing designer, had an impressive knowledge of architecture and therefor a training view to look and patterns and concepts. In return the older man admired the athletes determination and tried to understand his deeply engraved passion for Ice-Hockey. Both men found out each others personal and cultural differences and talked about them for hours. Klaus had studied, worked and traveled a lot, met countless of inspiring personalities and become one of them as well, Jack thought. A usual meeting would start with exchanging of updates and slowly morphed into a topic of mutual interest. When they meet for meals, they left after several hours of talking to head for a hotel in the next town and leaving each ways early in the night.

Meeting with the other members during semi-public events went less casual, at least for Jack. They preferred to sit at the far end of the bar-counter. The end of the counter ended into a round table and they used the space to show their actual projects or sources of interest. The seats where at the end of the room in a big corner with only some stray, low tables for two. The waiters used the less frequented part of the counter for preparing or stuff, so the place wasn't to far off, but not to busy as well. Eventually, depending on the crowd, they joined the center of the bar until they left. Wherever they stayed, extensive displays of affection where seldom, for several reasons. Though not unusual for the place, it never seemed comfortable for both of them to be slobbering all over each other in public, so they didn't. But they where constantly into each others spaces, holding each other, occasionally touching or kissing a bit. And Jack liked their kind of routine, talking and making-out and sex in private. So did the older man and they got lost easily with each other, not minding the environment to much. But they stayed decent and tended to drink not too much in general, so Jack felt comfortably safe.

For those events, Jack dressed in the weirdly tight, black, leather pants Shitty thought the _Canadian Adonis just had to own_. It was a really tight fit, but not cutting, so Jack squeezed his jock-clad Hockey-Butt into the stupid cloth and tried not to feel naked though. A certain amount of light walking and standing around was to be expected, so Jack had chosen good socks and his black hiking boots. Whether it was warm or not, he wore a very tight, very soft tank-top or an equal T-Shirt. The fabric felt smooth and cool on his skin, even better when somebody touched him. He also didn't feel too much on display, because the shirts where tight and short, hugging his body pointedly and revealing some skin over his waist now and then, but not see-through or something like that. Although the young athlete had to admit, it was certainly doing things to him, when Schulze mentioned his hard nipples outlined by the fine fabric to take one hand around his waist, pulling him closer and thumping casually at the sensitive spot … Yeah, it was kinda hot, Jack couldn't fight the warm buzz when he took off his coat at the wardrobe and went to join Schulze.

Today was certainly busier than usual and there where several faces Jack didn't know, but he also didn't pay much attention. Despite the added new guests of a nearby motorbike-club the evening went on as usual. It was already warm and Jack was glad he wore the tank top. Klaus was sitting somewhere off the middle of the counter, writing something in his notebook with his reading-glasses deep on his nose. He looked up when Jack approached, placed them down on the counter, left his chair and hugged Jack tightly, grinned at him and pulled him down to his face by his shoulders for a kiss. Jack sighed and after the greeting and settling down they soon got involved into the latest project Klaus was involved with.

Jack remained standing, but leaned into the other man's side with his body and got a sure arm holding him around his waist. He tried to concentrate on the sketches Schulze pointed out with the tip of a pencil and their explanations. But the younger man focused on the solid warmth pressed against him and watched the motions of the face in front of him. When the older man noticed Jack wasn't listening, he took his glasses down again and smiled up at Jack. The Canadian felt a rush of strong emotions flushing over him, all the affection and the ever present feeling, this could be the last time with Schulze … it made Jack suddenly sad. Klaus hugged him tighter and Jack folded his arms around the smaller man's shoulders. He tilted his forehead towards Jack's face.

“You shouldn't feel bad, don't let me make you feel sad, Jack”, Schulze said and waited for Jack.

“You don't! I … it's just much sometimes … now, I mean. Please, don't tell me to leave. It's … difficult, I know, but …”, Jack sighed and deflated into himself. “It's just sad sometimes, but it's okay … I think. Jack looked at the older man and hoped his point got through. Schulze smiled at him, so he sighed in relief, though the smile seemed sad as well.

“I know, Jack. I hope you won't leave. But I won't let you feel bad if I can help it,” he pecked Jack's cheek, “don't forget.”

Jack nodded and tried to wrap his mind off the dark shadows of sometime in the future back to the presence.

Klaus reached around for his case and took a box out of it. Jack knew the hint, they would get their coats, go out for a short smoke, return to the bathroom and make out. So he let go of the other man and headed for the wardrobe to get their stuff.

They had done this several times after talking it through, so it was discreet, but not to obvious to observe. Leaving the coats on was just convenient, depending on where they ended up finally. Roaming hands vanished under thick fabric and faces got hidden by collars and scarves. After the chill outside Jack soon found himself embraced into the heat of wandering hands and hard kisses. They hadn't found an open stall, even the bathroom was crowded partly, so they stood pressed into each other in a hardly lid corner. Schulze was pressing the taller man against the wall with his arms around his shoulders and Jack melted down into the deep kiss, his arms wrapped tight around the other mans waist. Jack pressed Schulze against him, lifting him up lightly with ease and felt a grinding motion of indistinct hardness at …

An audible camera-click and an even with closed eyes visible flashlight made the two man turn their heads at the source with a mutual gasp of surprise. Everything from that on happened astonishingly fast, as far Jack could tell. Within no time, images of the small, blond guy, his pointed nose and sparse hair shot through his minds and connected with memories of the certain German Car he had found to be so familiar. A reporter? Paparazzo? Stalker? Jack didn't have time to even think anything further or even a light panic attack, because with a reassuring hold onto Jack, Schulze tensed and told Jack they got this.

Everything went riot after that, because when they seperated and Schulze approached the guy with Jack in tow, the older man shouted out after him.

“Thiel!”, he demanded, following behind the guy. As if on cue the door of one stall in front of him was kicked open and Peter jumped into the hall with his waistband in his hands. The guy slipped in surprise, fell on his butt and the phone he still had in his hand, cluttered over the tiles far away under another stall.

“Hast du das Ding hier schon wieder an? Jetzt kriegst du auf die Schnauze!”(x), Peter shouted and Jack was held back by Schulzes outstretched arm when one after another all remaining stalls opened to reveal at least five members of the motorbike-club in different states of undress. Soon other guests arrived from outside and in a flurry of flailing fists, massive bodies and angry shouting the poor guy was hurled out of the toilet. Schulze guided Jack with one hand at the small of his back and they carefully watched the racket rolling through the hall out of the building. Someone politely cleared his throat from behind them.

“I think, _this_ ”, he dropped a smashed phone ceremoniously into a zip-back and closed it with two fingers of his gloved hand, “is due for evidence vault.” He smirked proudly, placed the plastic-bag inside of his pocket and took of the medical cloves with practiced motions. He bundled them up and aimed for the bin, but they fell on the ground with a sad thud. Jack and Schulze chuckled.

“Anyway”, Richard drawled out when he disposed the gloves into the bin finally with an exasperated huff, “Thiel is on his duty, we thought, he was suspicious, but I wasn't too sure …” Another loud burst of noise erupted through the building and all three men turned to walk to the general direction. When they entered the bar, there was still quite a fuss, but the stalking-guy was nowhere to be seen and the excitement resulted of the remaining energy of the crowd. Everyone was cheering and retelling their experiences and the bartender announced to music to start soon.

“Well”, Richard turned around at Jack and Schulze. “All is well, you might stay, or leave, don't you worry.” He nodded with a smile at Schulze and when he looked at Jack, he just padded his chest with the pocket, and left to say something special about Peter.

Jack was still a bit surprised, but the biggest surprise was, he didn't feel anxious. Sure, the initial shock was still a present fear, but … he felt okay. He was a bit agitated and out of breath and wanted to punch something, but he was all right. Nevertheless both Jack and Schulze decided to leave without even taking off their coats again. It may all have been well in the end, but the couple silently agreed not to waste any chances and Jack was just so very glad, at least this time there wouldn't be any video-cameras or taped-evidences at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (x) babelfish says: Did you get this thing back? Now you get on your muzzle!  
> Mia says: You have that thing back on in here again? Now eat some fist!
> 
> _ _ _ _  
> Thank you for reading, thank you Ngozi Ukazu and John Finnemore!

**Author's Note:**

> Kepp in mind: The main characters I used don't  
> belong to me, but Ngozi Ukazu and her project  
> OMG! Check Please! Please support her!


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